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The  Companion  Library. 

Number  Thirteen. 


SELECTIONS 
From  The  Youth's  Companion. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  PRAIRIE  SCHOONER     .      .      .  . 

.    JAMES  FULLERTON. 

3 

PRAIRIE  SIGNS  

.     HAMLIN  GARLAND. 

5 

PIONEER  LIFE  IN  DAKOTA 

.   THEODORA  R.  JENNESS. 

II 

THE  HATED  COYOTE  

17 

BOY-LIFE  ON  THE  PRAIRIE 

.     HAMLIN  GARLAND. 

20 

RANCH  LIFE  

HELEN  HUNT  JACKSON. 

25 

COWBOYS  OF  THE  PLAINS 

30 

THE  GREAT  CATTLE-TRAILS 

C.  M.  HARGER. 

36 

THE  LANGUAGE  OF  CATTLE-BRANDS 

P.  W.  HORN. 

41 

BREAKING  A  BRONCO        .      .      .  . 

HESTER  WASHBURNE. 

44 

A  CHASE  FOR  WILD  HORSES 

MAX  OWEN. 

48 

ANCIENT  FARMERS  AND  SPORTSMEN  . 

.    AURELIA  H.  MOHL. 

52 

THE  WATER  CACTUS  

P.  C.  BICKNELL. 

57 

GOVERNMENT  CAMELS      .      .      .  . 

.    A.  I.  PECK,  U.  S.  A. 

60 

Copyright,  i 

897. 

PERRY  MASON  & 

COMPANY, 

Boston,  Mass. 


The  Prairie  Schooner, 


The  hull  or  foundation  of  the  prairie  schooner  is  a  double 
box  about  twelve  and  one-half  feet  long.  This  box  is  usually 
three  and  a  half  feet  wide,  though  many  pioneers  extend  the 
upper  box  a  foot  on  each  side  and  support  it  by  iron  braces. 
A  wagon  sheet  stretched  over  four  or  five  good  elm  bows 
covers  the  box,  which  does  not,  however,  comprise  the  whole 
carrying  capacity  of  the  schooner. 

Secured  behind  the  box  will  be  seen  a  large  packing-case, 
with  front,  rear  or  sides  of  slats  or  woven  wire.  This  coop  is 
the  home  for  the  long  journey  of  perhaps  a  dozen  hens,  the 
nucleus  for  a  flock  at  the  new  home. 

Biddy  is  worth,  even  during  the  journey,  a  good  deal  more 
than  the  small  trouble  of  carrying  her.  She  supplies  the 
family  with  fresh  eggs  every  day,  for  the  fatigues  of  the 
voyage  do  not  turn  her  from  the  regularity  of  her  habits,  nor 
seem  to  upset  her  nervous  system. 

The  door  of  the  coop  is  opened  when  the  schooner  stops 
for  the  evening  camp  ;  out  fly  the  hens,  and  then  how  the 
dust  flies !  Such  a  fluttering,  scratching  and  cackling ! 
Such  running  after  grasshoppers  and  other  insects  !  But  the 
sinking  sun  soon  warns  them  that  it  is  time  for  all  good  fowls 
to  go  to  roost ;  they  fly  up  to  the  box  as  naturally  as  if  they 
had  never  slept  elsewhere  ;  the  door  is  closed  and  they  are 
ready  for  another  day's  drive. 

On  top  of  the  hen-coop  are  piled  chairs,  stovepipes  and 
other  light,  bulky  articles  ;  boxes  are  fastened  outside  the 
wagon  at  every  convenient  place  to  carry  tools,  cooking 
utensils  and  other  articles.  On  one  side,  held  in  position  by 
iron  rods,  may  be  a  keg  holding  five  or  ten  gallons  of  water, 
a  prime  necessity,  that  must  be  carried  over  many  miles 
of  the  American  desert. 

The  water  found  by  the  way  in  springs  and  stagnant  pools 


4 


THE  PRAIRIK  SCHOONER . 


is  often  brackish,  or  alkali  water,  which  cattle  and  horses 
drink  readily  enough,  though  man  refuses  it  as  distasteful. 
The  best  that  can  be  said  for  it  is  that  it  is  wet. 

It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  a  cow,  and  sometimes  a  hog,  led 
by  a  rope  tied  to  the  rear  of  the  wagon.  They  easily  learn 
to  follow,  and  to  find  their  living  on  the  prairie  at  every 
resting-place.  The  daily  fresh  milk  for  the  farmer's  children 
richly  repays  all  needed  care  of  the  cow. 

The  cover  of  the  prairie  schooner  is  not  always  closed  down 
on  the  sides  of  the  box  ;  it  has  strings  by  which  it  can  be 
reefed  up  two  feet  or  more  on  each  side,  so  that  the  top  will 
resemble  a  large  umbrella.  Thus  the  inhabitants  can  look 
around  the  horizon  as  they  travel.  Occasionally  one  may  see 
a  row  of  heads  poked  out  under  the  canvas,  some  white  with 
infancy,  some  white  with  old  age  ;  and  it  is  piteous  to  see 
some  poor  old  grandmother  submitted  to  the  hardships  of 
journeying  by  the  prairie  schooner. 

The  long  trip  is  always  an  experience  of  discomfort,  and 
often  of  danger.  Great  gales,  waterspouts  or  washouts  may 
be  encountered  ;  horses  may  be  lost  or  stolen  ;  tires  may  come 
off  or  some  other  accident  may  happen.  Proper  nourishment 
for  the  very  old  and  the  very  young  is  scarcely  to  be  had, 
and  no  wonder  many  die  on  the  voyage. 

But  fate  is  seldom  hard  on  the  pioneer.  Through  all  the 
trials  and  hardships  that  beset  his  path,  he  moves  west  with 
hope  like  a  pillar  of  fire  before  him,  and  the  vision  of  a  new 
home  where  independence  will  reward  his  toil  and  peace  bless 
his  declining  years. 

James  FuivI^erton. 


Prairie  Signs 


The  Dakota  prairies  are  not  uninteresting,  as  many 
travellers  would  have  their  readers  believe.  Their  monotony 
is  only  apparent.  A  close  study  of  even  the  most  level  and 
apparently  characterless  stretch  of  sod  will  yield  the  most 
surprising  and  interesting  results.  It  is  like  the  ocean  in  its 
immense  sweep  and  changelessness  of  its  lines,  and  in  the 
great  variety  of  its  shades  of  color  and  light-effects. 

But  it  is  unlike  the  ocean  in  retaining  traces  of  change 
upon  its  surface,  mysterious  marks  of  storm  and  fire.  I^ooked 
at  closely,  the  turf  is  a  page  written  with  strange  and  often 
pathetic  lines,  whole  histories  of  storm  and  stress  of  war. 

One  of  the  signs  first  to  strike  the  eyes  is  the  sight  of  the 
buffaloes'  bones  scattered  thickly  over  the  plain.  Gathering 
them  for  shipment  eastward  became  profitable  to  the  pioneer 
boys.  The  living  buffalo  long  ago  disappeared  from  these 
prairies,  and  the  freshest  crib  of  bones  that  I  saw  dated  back 
ten  years. 

Many  of  these,  I  suppose,  were  twenty-five  or  even  fifty 
years  old.  Of  these  last  nothing  remained  save  the  hardest 
part  of  the  skull  and  the  teeth.  The  burial-places  of  others, 
still  older,  are  indicated  by  the  more  luxuriant  growth  of  grass. 

Dakota  boys  soon  found  that  the  buffalo  carcasses  on  the 
upland  were  good  places  to  look  for  arrow-heads,  for  the 
Indians  sought  the  young  and  strong  animals,  and  generally 
killed  them  on  the  open  plain.  I  have  seen  arrow-heads  and 
spears  driven  quite  through  the  shoulder-blade,  showing  with 
what  great  force  they  were  sent. 

Next  to  the  bones,  in  interest,  come  the  buffalo  trails,  seen 
everywhere  as  deep,  crooked  furrows.  At  the  place  in  Dakota 
which  I  have  in  mind,  they  ran  from  the  southeast  to  the 
northwest.  These  undoubtedly  show  the  course  of  the 
buffaloes  as  they  came  and  went  from  the  feeding-grounds  to 
the  watering-places. 


1.  Gathering  Bones. 

2.  Teepee  Stones. 

3.  Buffalo  Trails. 

4.  Buffalo  Wallows. 

5.  Buffalo  Bones. 

6.  Indian  Camp. 

7.  A  "CiRcus  Ring." 


PRAIRIK  SIGNS. 


7 


Occasionally  on  the  prairies  one  comes  upon  an  Indian 
trail,  shown  by  two  parallel  furrows,  more  direct  and 
purposeful  than  the  buffalo  trails. 

Still  more  interesting  are  the  circles  of  stones  found  very 
plentifully  in  McPherson  County,  indicating  where  the  teepees 
were  pitched.  The  stones,  I  suppose,  served  the  purposes  of 
pegs,  being  laid  on  the  edges  of  the  tents.  As  they  were 
simply  rolled  off  when  the  tent  was  folded,  they  served  in  turn 
for  others. 

I  well  remember  what  a  stir  it  gave  my  imagination,  one 
beautiful  May  morning  in  1863,  as  I  stood  in  the  midst  of  the 
level  sward  in  McPherson  County.  On  the  west  was  the  low, 
irregular  line  of  treeless  hills,  and  on  the  east  the  fresh,  green, 
level  plain,  stretching  into  the  misty  distance  like  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  the  far-away,  advancing  line  of  shanties,  like  a  fleet  of 
little  boats,  keeping  up  the  illusion  of  a  sea. 

I  was  in  advance  of  civilization.  There  was  no  sound  save 
the  trill  of  the  lark,  the  cry  of  the  plover  or  the  short,  shrill 
shriek  of  the  hawks.  It  was  a  weird  scene.  I  stood  in  the 
centre  of  one  of  these  rings  of  stone,  and  in  imagination  I 
recalled  what  must  have  been  a  characteristic  scene,  as 
characteristic  of  the  land  and  people  as  the  tourney  of  feudal 
England. 

I  saw  the  group  of  tents,  surrounding  the  large  one  of  the 
chief  ;  the  horses  picketed,  waiting  the  morning  mount ;  on 
the  far-away  hills  dark  masses  of  buffaloes  and  swifter  masses 
of  antelopes. 

On  a  distant  mound,  like  a  figure  of  bronze,  the  wolf 
stood,  with  long  body  alert  and  head  thrown  side  wise.  Men 
were  swarming  about  the  tents,  some  mounted,  with  arrows 
slung  at  the  back  and  spear  in  hand,  impatient  to  be  off, 
while  the  rest  consulted  and  motioned  toward  the  distant 
herds. 

I  imagined  with  what  joy  the  young  men  vaulted  upon 
their  horses,  and  how  impatient  they  were  to  start.  The 
sunlight  fell  upon  the  plain,  and  the  springing  grass  was 


8  PRAIRIE  SIGNS. 

as  sweet  to  the  eye  as  the  word  to  the  lip.  The  white  man's 
world  was  still  far  away,  almost  unknown. 

It  is  probable  that  the  Indians'  real  life  and  emotions  will 
never  be  written ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  morning  that  I 
got  nearer  to  the  feeling  of  the  wild  huntsmen  of  the  buffalo 
than  ever  before  or  since.  These  Indians  were  not  beasts  nor 
demons,  but  men  living  under  conditions  which  required  and 
produced  savagery  in  some  things. 

One  sign  which  I  have  never  seen  written  of  at  any  length, 
nor  satisfactorily  explained,  is  the  "fairy  circle."  These 
marks  on  the  sod  are  figures  wrought  in  grass  of  a  darker 
green  than  the  rest,  usually  found  in  places  where  the  ground 
is  perfectly  smooth.  They  can  only  be  seen  at  favorable 
seasons  of  the  year,  say  the  first  of  June. 

The  circle  is  of  even  breadth,  and  looks  like  this. 
It  is  thirty  or  forty  feet  in  diameter,  and  has  an 
appearance  as  if  dark-green  grass  had  been  planted  by  a 
gardener  in  the  midst  of  a  yellow-green  sward. 

Q Sometimes  the  rings  are  mere  crescents, 
or  crescents  with  a  supplementary  line.  Some- 
times the  supplementary  line  is  complete,  in 
^      other  words,  a  circle  having  one  side  much 
( U\    broader  than  the  other.    Sometimes  it  seems 
to  be  an  attempt  at  representing  a  bow.  This 
last  form  is  very  rare  ;  I  have  seen  but  few  like  it. 

What  these  are  I  certainly  do  not  know.  They  are  too 
large  to  be  the  result  of  tent-setting,  and  besides,  they  would 
not  be  found  in  low  ground  in  such  case.  It  has  been 
supposed  that  they  are  the  marks  left  by  electrical  vortices 
during  storms.  I  think  they  are  the  result  of  intelligent  force  ; 
but  I  have  no  theory. 

I  am  no  more  sure  of  their  cause  than  I  am  of  that  of 
another  phenomenon  to  which  my  attention  was  called. 
There  are  many  instances  where,  in  the  exact  centre  of  a 
shallow  basin  in  the  sod,  a  dip  thirty  or  forty  feet  across, 
there  rests  a  huge  boulder.    The  whole  effect  is  that  of  a 


PRAIRIK  SIGNS. 


9 


circus  ring,  and  the  children  call  these  depressions  by  this 
name. 

The  depression  is  so  round  and  the  stone  so  exactly  in  the 
centre  that  one  cannot  rid  himself  of  the  impression  that  the 
spot  was  a  threshing-floor  or  a  circus  ring.  If  the  ground 
beneath  were  of  limestone  formation  I  think  I  could  explain 
it ;  but  as  it  is  clay  for  thirty  feet,  and  an  impervious  layer  of 
slate  at  last,  I  simply  retire  from  the  field  of  discussion. 

Another  mark  almost  equally  baffling  is  the  shallow  pit,  or 
wallow,  which  is  not  unfrequently  found  in  Dakota.  These 
pits  are  quite  unlike  the  hog-wallows  or  buffalo-wallows  of 
Iowa  and  Minnesota.  They  are  on  the  upland,  have  abrupt 
perpendicular  sides,  and  look  precisely  as  if  the  soil  had  been 
lifted  out  bodily  a  foot  or  two  deep,  leaving  the  clay  subsoil 
exposed.    The  bottom  is  generally  covered  with  gravel. 

There  are  many  theories  as  to  the  cause  of  these.  It  has 
been  claimed  that  the  cavities  were  burned  out  during  great 
drought,  and  also  that  they  were  worked  out  by  the  buffaloes 
pawing  the  dust.  Others  see  in  them  the  work  of  the  wind  as 
well.  My  opinion  is  that  the  buffalo  and  the  wind  together 
did  the  work. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  signs  which  the  observant  eye  of  the 
traveller  will  see  as  he  rides  or  walks  across  these  strange 
stretches  of  short,  crisp  grass.  As  I  rode  toward  the  hills, 
entering  through  narrow  defiles  into  valleys  holding  alkaline 
lakes  surrounded  by  deep  grasses,  it  required  little  effort  to 
imagine  savage  men  signalling  from  peak  to  peak  of  those 
bare  and  stony  hills. 

I  could  imagine  a  gigantic  sentinel  buffalo  standing  like 
a  figure  of  granite  outlined  against  the  sky,  watching  the 
surrounding  valleys  for  his  foes,  the  red  men,  and  roaring  a 
sudden  warning  upon  his  herds  as  he  thundered  down  among 
them.  It  was  so  silent  and  so  lone,  and  the  landscape  was  so 
peculiar,  that  I  had  gone  beyond  the  reach  of  anything  I  had 
ever  known  or  loved.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  forget  that 
scene,  as  we  lay  in  the  shade  of  our  wagon  and  looked  at  the 


lO 


PRAIRIB  SIGNS. 


hills,  the  faint,  delusive  gleam  of  the  distant  lakes,  and  saw 
the  cranes  rise  out  of  the  grasses. 

Those  hills !  Prodigious  mounds  of  clay  and  loose 
boulders,  each  slope  white  with  stones  looking  like  a  flock  of 
sheep  rushing  toward  the  valleys.  Those  lakes  —  stagnant, 
poisonous,  silent ;  no  life  there,  no  paddling  duck,  no 
swinging  blackbird.  Foam-edged,  soapy,  yet  clear  and 
crystalline  ;  lakes  toward  which,  on  countless  sultry  days, 
the  buffalo  had  rushed,  mad  with  thirst,  and  drank  and  died  ; 
lakes  that  burst  on  the  hunter's  famished  eyes  like  the  gleam 
of  silver,  only  to  burn  his  parched  throat  like  lye.  Grasses 
thick,  yellow  mixed  with  green,  old  with  new,— so  thick  that 
the  antelope  were  lost  in  it, —  shelter  for  the  cold  fox  and  wolf 
in  winter,  into  which  the  antelope  cowered  when  the  north 
wind  swept  over  the  hills. 

Once  again,  as  I  write,  the  wild  geese  pass  by  overhead, 
the  shadows  of  clouds  slide  down  the  hills,  the  hawks  scream 
in  their  sport,  the  wolf  looks  down  at  me  from  a  distant  swell, 
and  out  of  the  unknown  west  the  wind  drives  the  white  puffs 
of  cloud. 

Hamlin  Garland. 


Pioneer  Life  in  Dakota. 


The  pioneers  upon  the  wind-swept  prairies  of  Dakota, 
where  winter  almost  merges  into  summer  and  a  frost  in 
August  is  quite  common,  exercise  much  thought  and 
ingenuity  devising  ways  and  means  for  the  protection  of 
their  homes,  stock,  crops  and  their  own  lives. 

The  settler  often  lands  upon  the  prairie  in  the  spring, 
with  a  few  possessions  which  he  guards  with  care  while 
camping  with  his  family  in  a  covered  wagon  or  a  tent  until  a 
dugout,  shack  or  log  house  is  completed. 

The  dugout  seems  to  be  the  favorite  dwelling  for  new 
settlers.  It  costs  but  little  save  the  work  of  excavating  in  the 
side  of  a  ravine,  and  is  secure  against  a  cyclone,  sand-storm 
or  the  dreadful  blizzard  that  so  often  rages  on  the  northern 
plains. 

The  climate  of  Dakota  is  so  dry  that  moisture  never 
gathers  in  the  dugout,  and  the  earth  walls  soon  become  so 
hard  that  plaster  will  adhere  to  them  and  they  will  never 
crumble. 

Frequently  a  schoolhouse  is  provided  with  a  dugout,  into 
which  the  teacher  and  her  pupils  flee  for  safety  during  a 
wind-storm  of  such  violence  that  they  dare  not  risk  remaining 
in  the  schoolhouse. 

If  the  settler  has  success  in  farming  or  in  raising  stock,  he 
builds  a  house  of  some  kind  near  his  dugout,  which  remains 
a  place  of  shelter  in  emergencies  like  those  described. 

Sometimes  he  sets  a  frame  house  on  his  dugout,  connects 
it  with  the  dwelling  by  a  staircase  in  the  rear,  and  has  a 
quaint,  two-storied  dwelling  for  all  sorts  of  weather.  In 
summer  he  may  occupy  the  breezy  upper  part ;  in  winter,  live 
below,  and  thus  defy  the  howling  blast. 

Next  to  dugouts  for  security  and  warmth  are  log  houses. 
These  are  numerous  in  Dakota.    When  cared  for  by  a  thrift}^ 


PIONKKR  IN  DAKOTA. 


13 


housewife,  the  interior  of  a  settler's  log  house  is  by  no  means 
uninviting.  The  walls  are  often  lined  with  mUvSlin  and 
adorned  with  pictures  that  suggest  a  cheering  thought,  even 
though  they  may  lack  artistic  merit. 

If  there  is  no  carpet  on  the  living-room,  fur  rugs  usually 
protect  the  feet  if  there  are  large  boys  in  the  family.  For 
where  is  the  pioneer  boy  of  the  Northwest  who  has  not  rid 
the  country  of  some  prowling  coyotes,  and  perhaps  one  or 
two  gray  wolves  ?  Now  and  then  a  cow-skin,  from  a  long- 
haired three-year-old,  is  thrown  across  a  wooden  settle  or  a 
straight-backed  chair,  to  keep  a  chill  from  creeping  up  the 
spine. 

If  the  owner  of  a  log  house  is  ambitious  for  a  frame  house 
for  appearance's  sake,  yet  wishes  to  retain  the  warmth  and 
comfort  of  the  former  dwelling,  he  is  apt  to  weather-board  the 
logs,  and  seal  or  plaster  the  inside,  and  thus  his  object  is 
accomplished  without  loss  of  comfort. 

The  frame  houses  of  the  Northwest  are  more  securely 
built  than  those  in  warmer  climates,  having  tarred  paper 
under  the  weather-boards  and  builders'  paper  under  the  laths, 
or  ceiling-boards.  These  papers,  with  storm-windows  and  a 
storm-room  at  the  north  or  west  door,  help  to  exclude  the  wind 
and  cold.  Sometimes  a  stockade  of  split  logs,  extending  to 
the  eaves,  is  built  along  the  north  and  west  sides  of  the  house 
to  stop  the  wind. 

Those  who  live  in  shacks,  or  board  shanties,  have  the  least 
security,  and  woe  betide  them  if  they  lack  fuel  in  a  blizzard. 

For  those  who  live  a  long  way  from  the  railroad  coal  is 
almost  unattainable,  and  wood  is  very  scarce,  save  in  the 
vicinity  of  large  streams.  Hence  in  many  places  twisted  hay 
is  used  for  fuel.  To  save  the  work  of  twisting  it  by  hand, 
some  settlers  have  a  twister,  or  machine  for  preparing  the 
fuel  for  winter  use. 

Those  who  travel  on  the  prairie  in  the  winter  often  use  a 
double  box,  in  which  they  ride  in  safety,  sheltered  from  the 
wind.    This  is  made   by  bracing  tiers  of    boards  upon  a 


14 


PIONKKR  I.IFE  IN  DAKOTA. 


wagon-box  until  the  vSides  are  several  feet  in  height.  The 
travellers  sit  upon  a  bed  of  hay  inside  the  box,  wrapped  in 
furs  or  -comforters,  and  in  this  way  brave  the  bitterest  cold. 
The  driver  guides  the  horses  with  the  lines  drawn  through  a 
space  in  front. 

If  a  blizzard  overtakes  the  traveller  thus  equipped,  he  may 
turn  the  horses  loose,  and  overturn  the  double  box  and  camp 
beneath  it  in  the  liay  and  coverings.  The  snow  will  drift 
about  the  cracks  beneath  the  double  box  and  bank  it  in.  The 


horses  will  not  wander  more  than  eighty  rods,  and  usually 
will  seek  some  hollow  near  the  camping-place  and  there 
survive  the  storm. 

Second  only  to  the  welfare  of  the  famil}^  with  the  Northern 
settler  is  the  care  of  properly  providing  for  his  stock. 

For  immense  herds  of  cattle  nothing  can  be  done  except  to 
leave  them  free  to  seek  the  shelter  of  ravines  that  break  the 
herd  lands  here  and  there.  They  may  endure  the  cold  and 
scarcity  of  feed  and  water  until  spring,  or  ma}^  perish  by  the 
hundreds.    For  smaller  droves  a  shelter  is  provided  in  a  line 


Caught  in  a  Blizzard. 


PIONEER  IvIFE  IN  DAKOTA.  15 

of  Open  sheds  facing  south  in  a  corral.  When  a  storm  is 
brewing  the  stock  is  driven  into  this  corral  by  the  active 
members  of  the  family,  sometimes  including  the  girls. 

No  slight  danger  to  the  settlers  and  their  possessions  is 
occasioned  by  the  prairie  fires,  driven  by  the  wind  across  the 
vast,  wild  tracts  of  grass-land  in  the  spring  and  fall. 

The  prudent  settler  plows  a  strip  about  his  premises, 
but  the  fire  will  sometimes  leap  this  barrier  and  spread  in 
threatening  nearness  to  the  home.  Then  all  the  family  make 
a  valiant  fight  against  it,  whipping  it  with  strips  of  carpet, 
brooms  and  woollen  cloths,  or  whatever  falls  to  hand. 

The  Russian  thistle,  or  the  Russian  cactus,  has  become 
a  pest  to  farmers  in  Dakota.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been 
introduced  into  South  Dakota  in  seed  wheat  brought  from 
Russia  by  immigrants  from  the  vicinity  of  the  Black  Sea. 
It  spread  with  startling  rapidity,  and  now  the  two  Dakotas 
and  parts  of  Minnesota,  Nebraska  and  Wisconsin  are  infested 
by  the  weed,  which  must  be  fought  with  great  persistence, 
or  it  smothers  crops  and  takes  complete  possession  of  the  land. 

The  plant  grows  rapidly  in  grain-fields  after  har\^est,  and 
its  seeds  are  ripe  about  the  last  of  August.  It  is  now  so  stiff 
and  bristly  that  animals  shrink  from  passing  through  it,  and 
when  horses  must  be  used  in  such  fields  their  legs  are  often 
booted  or  wound  with  cloth  to  protect  them  from  the  irritating 
effects  of  the  thistle.  The  plant  varies  in  size  from  slender 
specimens  two  inches  in  height  to  dome-shaped  masses  six 
feet  in  diameter,  weighing  twenty-five  pounds. 

As  soon  as  the  plant  is  killed  by  the  frost  it  is  broken  loose 
from  its  decayed  root  by  the  wind  and  rolled  over  the  prairie 
for  miles,  scattering  innumerable  seeds  along  its  track. 

Sheep  are  very  fond  of  the  thistle  until  it  becomes  coarse 
and  woody.  By  pasturing  sheep  on  the  young  plant  it  may  be 
kept  down,  and  the  only  valuable  quality  the  plant  has  may 
be  utilized. 

Theodora  R.  Jenness. 


i 

) 


Cowed  by  a  Hawk. 


i 


The  Hated  Coyote. 


It  was  sunrise  on  the  western  border  of  Nebraska,  where  I 
had  slept  in  a  sod  house.  I  was  only  half-awake  when  a 
strange  noise  fully  aroused  me. 

Satisfied  that  it  was  not  a  nightmare,  but  an  actual  sound, 
I  hurriedly  dressed  and  went  out  to  see  what  could  make  such 
a  noise.  It  was  like  the  muffled  howls  and  barks  of  many  curs 
beneath  the  earth  at  my  feet,  with  the  yelps  of  puppies  in  the 
skies,  and  the  groans  and  sighs  of  pandemonium  all  mingled 
between. 

The  sun  was  up  and  the  morning  was  bright  and  clear,  but 
nothing  could  be  seen  far  and  wide  over  the  almost  uninter- 
rupted prairie.  My  host  soon  joined  me,  and  laughingly 
asked  me  the  cause  of  my  bewilderment. 

"  I  am  looking  for  that  pack  of  wolves." 

He  laughed  at  me  and  told  me  that  the  wolves  were 
coyotes,  that  there  were  probably  but  two  of  them,  and  that 
one  was  making  all  the  noise.  Moreover,  he  soon  proved  to 
me  that  he  was  right. 

Coyotes  are  usually  harmless,  though  they  sometimes  carry 
off  poultry,  and  once  in  a  great  while  even  a  young  pig. 
Yet  the  settlers  almost  always  try  to  impress  you  with  the 
fact  that  they  and  almost  all  other  living  creatures  hate  the 
coyote. 

One  ranchman  said  that  he  had  seen  his  steers,  one  after 
another,  chase  a  coyote  by  the  hour  around  among  the  herd. 

' '  Why  do  they  do  that  ?  "  * 

"  Oh,  they  hate  them,  everything  liates  them." 

Another  frontiersman,  seeing  his  horses  run  up  and  down 
between  the  rows  of  dry  corn-stalks  the  greater  part  of  an 
afternoon,  wondered  what  they  meant,  especially  as  the  horses 
seemed  to  be  vying  with  each  other  for  the  lead,  and  the 
leader  always  seemed  to  have  his  head  down  and  ears  laid 


i8 


THK  HATKD  COYOTB. 


back  as  if  he  were  reaching  out  to  snap  at  something.  When 
he  drew  near  he  saw  the  horses  were  chasing  a  coyote. 

He  had  scarcely  watched  them  ten  minutes  when  a  colt 
outstripped  the  rest,  ran  ahead,  struck  the  coyote  in  the 
small  of  the  back  with  his  sharp  hoof  and  killed  him  almost 
instantly. 

' '  But  why  did  your  horses  do  that  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  they  hate  the  coyotes  ;  everything  hates  them,  even 
the  birds  hate  them  !  ' ' 

To  substantiate  this  last  statement  he  told  me  how  he  had 
seen  a  flock  of  crows,  with  ceaseless  cawing,  one  after  another, 
worry  a  coyote  till  he  was  well-nigh  tired  out. 

An  exhibition  of  this  hatred  at  last  came  to  my  notice. 
Driving  over  the'  prairie  one  day  I  was  suddenly  startled  in 
the  midst  of  a  long  and  oppressive  stillness  by  the  scream  of  a 
hen-hawk,  one  of  the  large  kind  that  looks  like  a  smaller  copy 
of  the  American  eagle.  Having  once  owned  one  of  these 
birds  for  a  pet,  his  voice  sounded  familiar,  and  I  stopped  to 
watch  his  graceful  flight.  Not  more  than  six  hundred  yards 
ahead  he  was  sweeping  in  majestic  circles,  repeating  his 
royal  call. 

Nearly  every  time  he  completed  the  circle  he  gave  a  loud 
blast,  as  from  a  clarion,  folded  his  wings  to  his  side  and  shot 
down  out  of  sight  among  a  little  cluster  of  hillocks  covered 
with  prairie  grass.  Thence  he  would  soar  up  again,  seemingly 
out  of  the  earth,  screaming  as  if  in  triumph. 

I  drew  in  my  horse  and  slowly  approached  to  see  upon 
what  the  bird  was  so  intent,  and  found  that  he  had  two  coyotes 
there  at  bay.  Darting  down  upon  the  one  in  advance,  die 
would  at  each  descent  open  his  folded  wings  as  if  to  alight 
on  the  coyote,  and  reach  for  him  with  his  beak  and  hooked 
talons.  But  he  never  touched  the  coyote  with  these,  though 
he  often  struck  him  powerfully  with  his  wings. 

The  coyote  attacked  would  sprawl  down  fiat  in  the  grass 
and  press  his  head  close  to  the  ground,  with  his  ears  laid 
back.    The  other  one  would  sit  on  his  haunches  with  the 


THK  HATED  COYOTE. 


19 


guilty  appearance  of  a  dog  awaiting  expected  punishment 
from  his  master. 

As  the  hawk  soared  again,  the  coyote  crouching  in  the 
grass  would  sit  up  on  his  haunches,  and  both  would  turn  their 
eyes  upward  after  the  hawk  with  signs  of  relief. 

When  the  bird  was  farthest  away  in  his  circle  they  often 
tried  to  run  away,  but  were  always  overtaken  before  they 
could  take  half-a-dozen  steps.  Then  the  one  would  have  to 
crouch  again,  while  the  other  showed  uneasiness  for  his 
mate's  safety. 

Sometimes  the  coyotes  would  not  attempt  to  leave.  Then 
the  hawk  would  enlarge  his  circles  and  even  go  around 
several  times,  but  if  the  coyotes  showed  restlessness  or 
took  their  eyes  from  the  hawk  he  would  come  down,  first 
on  the  one  in  the  rear,  rise  a  few  feet  and  then  drop  on  the 
one  in  front.  Thus  forcing  both  to  duck  by  one  descent,  he 
rose,  shrieking  as  if  delighted  by  their  submission. 

At  last  the  coyotes  seemed  to  be  reduced  to  a  state  of 
complete  despair.  They  lay  down  and  held  their  heads  erect 
only  enough  to  enable  them  to  watch  their  enemy,  who  was 
then  better  satisfied,  and  screamed  only  when  he  was  directly 
over  them.  But  even  then,  when  I  made  a  noise  to  attract 
their  attention,  he  came  down  to  draw  their  attention  from  me 
and  to  himself  again. 

Though  the  hawk  was  for  the  most  of  the  time  about  a 
hundred  feet  in  the  air,  and  his  circles  were  often  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  diameter,  his  head  was  constantly  turned 
toward  the  beasts.  The  sun  was  setting.  I  had  watched 
them  for  more  than  an  hour,  and  then  I  left  them. 

But  I  asked  myself.  Why  do  these  birds  hate  the  coyote? 
He  cannot  molest  the  crow  or  her  young  in  their  nest,  nor  can 
he  wage  war  against  the  hawk  in  his  lofty  aery. 

I.  N.  Quest. 


Boy-Life  on  the  Prairie 


Every  year  there  come  days  which  seem  especially  to  mark, 
even  in  the  city,  the  change  of  seasons  —  days  that  to  me,  at 
least,  are  full  of  strange  power.  Every  autumn  there  comes  a 
day  when  a  powerful  wind  roars  over  Boston,  trampling  the 
trees  and  hurrying  the  leaves  along  the  ground  like  a  flock  of 
young  partridges  —  the  herald  of  winter. 

Walking  under  the  huge  English  elms,  or  sitting  at  my 
desk  and  listening  to  the  roaring  voices  of  the  branches,  I 
forget  where  I  am.    Instantly  I  am  back  to  the  West. 

I  am  in  the  midst  of  the  wide,  level  prairie,  lying  deep 
in  a  clump  of  hazel-bushes,  holding  my  horse  by  his  rein, 
listening  to  the  hoarse  singing  of  the  wind  in  the  grass,  the 
tinkle  of  the  cow-bells  and  the  scream  of  the  blue  jay.  Around 
me  on  the  ground  are  delicious  hazelnuts,  brown  and  smooth 
as  my  own  face. 

Hawks  are  drifting  down  the  wind,  tipping  and  wheeling 
on  their  search  for  mice  and  gophers  ;  and  always  the  wind's 
voice  is  in  my  ears  and  the  gray  sky  over  my  head. 

It  seems  curious  that  each  change  of  season,  as  it  comes 
sharply  upon  me,  should  cause  me  to  live  again  those  far-off 
boyish  days,  and  enjoy  them,  too,  for  they  were  not  always 
perfectly  enjoyable  then.  The  boys  of  Iowa  now  have  little 
of  the  wild  prairie-life  left,  but  the  farm-life  is  nearly  the  same. 

As  soon  as  the  harvest  was  gathered  into  the  stack  the 
plows  were  set  at  work,  for  plowing  was  a  very  long  and  hard 
fall  task.  From  the  age  of  nine  or  ten  we  were  required  to 
drive  a  team  in  the  field,  and  very  irksome  it  became  to  us. 
Out  in  the  morning  in  the  frosty  half-light  doing  chores,  out 
in  the  field  before  sun-up,  plodding  to  and  fro  all  day  and  till 
sunset  at  night  —  no  wonder  we  looked  forward  eagerly  to 
taking  our  turn  at  herding  the  cattle. 

In  those  days  there  were  vast  open  tracts  of  prairie  on 


BOY-IvlFK  ON  THK  PRAIRIE. 


21 


which  the  cattle  and  horses  pastured,  and  the  neighbors  used 
to  combine  herds  and  keep  their  boys  watching  the  cattle. 
The  boys  took  turns  at  this  work.  Some  of  my  richest 
memories  of  the  West  are  associated  with  those  wild,  free 
rides  on  the  prairie. 

We  virtually  grew  up  on  horseback,  and  to  ride  was  as 
natural  as  to  whistle  or  to  run.    Many  are  the  wild  rides  we 


The  Wild  Rides. 


had  with  the  half -wild  colts  or  young  cattle,  and  many  were 
the  trials  of  speed  among  ourselves.  Sometimes  a  fox  or  wolf 
invited  our  attention,  and  with  whoop  and  halloo  we  dashed 
after  him  in  keen,  hot  chase. 

For  eatables  on  these  rides  we  had  berries,  plums,  wild 
grapes  and,  last  of  all,  hazelnuts.  I  am  aftaid  the  city  boy 
who  reads  this  will  hardly  know  what  a  real  hazelnut  is,  for 


22 


BOY-LIFE  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


I  have  tried  many  a  time  to  get  vSuch  nuts,  but  could  not  find 
them.  When  just  right,  they  are  a  delicious  nut,  unequalled 
in  flavor,  and  they  form  a  pleasant  reminiscence  of  boy-life. 

Oh,  such  days  !  Indian-summer  days,  when  the  warm  haze 
slept  on  the  yellow-green  grasses,  with  not  wind  enough  to 
stir  it ;  when  the  crickets  sang  in  ecstasy  and  the  hawk  sailed 
high  in  the  air  ;  when  the  gophers  worked  busily  among  the 
nuts  and  the  trees  stood  as  in  a  dream  ;  days  when  the  sky 
was  bright  as  a  sword  and  the  wind  was  abroad  like  the  rush 
of  an  army  ;  when  the  grasses  tossed  and  wallowed,  and  the 
poplar  groves  grew  full  of  song  and  rustled  and  hummed  and 
roared  overhead ;  days  when  the  ducks  began  to  thicken  as 
they  flew  from  pond  to  pond,  and  occasional  cranes  swept 
solitarily  by,  far  up  in  the  central  glow  of  the  sky. 

There  were  rainy  days,  too,  when  the  rain  struck  slantwise 
across  the  plain  where  the  cattle  fed,  tails  to  the  wind,  and  the 
colts  stood  in  the  lee  of  the  groves  dismally,  with  broad  tails 
blown  forward  and  mane  covering  their  eyes  ;  long  days  to  the 
boy,  who  sat  in  his  rubber  coat  on  his  horse  in  the  grove, 
listening  to  the  rain  spattering  lonesomely  in  the  leaves, 
feeling  the  gray  showers  which  the  impatient  branches  flung 
down  upon  him. 

On  such  days  how  cheerful  the  kitchen  fire  seemed  to  the 
wet,  cold  and  hungry  herdboy  coming  home  at  night  through 
the  darkness  and  thickening  rain,  following  the  steady  clank 
of  the  cow-bell ! 

But  sometimes,  when  the  prairies  were  dry  and  feed  short, 
the  cattle  were  watched  in  the  fields  and  the  boys  took  turns 
in  patrolling  the  edge  of  the  corn-field. 

This  was  especially  delightful,  for  the  melon-patch  was 
almost  always  in  the  corn-field  and  furnished  just  the  kind  of 
refreshment  necessary.  Great,  luscious  Mountain  Sweets, 
pink  Peerless  and.  the  delicious  green-fleshed  cantaloup  lay 
there,  just  waiting  for  the  boy  with  a  knife. 

What  pictures  and  sounds  that  melon-patch  calls  up ! 
They  are   an   interminable  series.     I  can   hear  the  vast, 


BOY-I.IFE  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


23 


multitudinous  rasp  and  rustle  of  the  ripening  leaves,  turning 
straw-colored  under  the  frost  and  sun.  I  can  see  the  long 
colonnades  and  feel  the  leaves  brush  against  me  as  I  run 
swiftly  between  the  rows,  leaping  the  leaning  stalks,  dodging 
the  pumpkin-vines.  The  dry  tassels  shake  over  my  head  ;  the 
heavy  ears,  beginning  to  droop,  touch  me  on  the  shoulder  as 
I  pass  in  zigzag  flight  to  the  centre  of  the  field,  where  the 
melons  lie  in  green  and  yellow  toothsomeness  amid  the 
frost-seared  leaves. 

Boys  are  like  bees  in  some  ways.  They  extract  the  honey 
of  delight  from  most  ugl3'-looking  flowers  sometimes  ;  and 
when  the  herdboy  sat  in  the  sun  on  the  lee  of  the  corn-field 
and  ate  his  melon  or  carved  his  jack-o'-lantern,  while  the 
wind  roared  and  the  muffled  cow-bells  told  the  cattle  were  in 
the  stubble,  he  was  happ3^ 

The  bo}-  of  the  town  or  city  would  have  died  of  loneliness  ; 
but  this  boy,  thrown  back  upon  himself  and  on  nature, 
succeeded  in  being  quite  happy  most  of  the  time,  though 
there  were  times  when  a  longing  for  compan}^  made  even  the 
sight  of  the  distant  plowman  a  comfort. 

And  when  John  came  over  to  share  a  melon  with  the 
cowboy  an  hour  of  boyish  fun  followed,  so  delightful  that 
it  seemed  onl}^  fifteen  minutes,  though  the  horses  knew 
they  ought  to  be  bus3^  But  it  wasn't  their  business  to  sa}^ 
anything  ! 

For  the  months  of  August,  September  and  October, 
alternate  plowing,  herding  the  cattle  and  digging  potatoes 
formed  the  bo3^s'  work,  broken  onl3^  b3^  the  count3^  fair,  which 
was  all  pleasure,  and  by  the  threshing  season,  which  was 
mingled  jo3^  and  weariness. 

The  corn  was  slowl3^  ripening  under  the  mighty  alchem3^ 
of  the  frost  ;  and  usually  before  October  was  gone  the  husking 
began. 

Husking  in  the  West  is  quite  different  from  husking  in  the 
East.  The  corn  is  left  standing  in  the  fields  till  the  other 
work  is  done  —  till  the  ears  are  dr3^  enough  to  shell.  Then 


24 


BOY-LIFK  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


the  teams,  with  huge  wagons,  drive  into  the  rows,  and  the 
men  walking  'beside  the  wagon  husk  the  ears  and  throw  them 
into  the  wagon.  When  there  are  more  than  two  men  with  a 
wagon  the  wagon  passes  over  a  row.  This  is  called  the 
"down-row,"  and  is  the  boy's  row. 

The  boy  of  ten  or  twelve  is  expected  to  keep  up  the 
down-row ;  and  very  hard  work  he  finds  it  sometimes,  when 
the  cold  wind  has  numbed  his  face  and  wrists,  and  the  frost 
has  wet  his  mittens  and  chapped  his  quivering  hands. 

At  first  it  was  beautiful  work  —  on  a  fine,  clear  October 
day,  when  the  ground  was  dry,  the  sun  warm  and  the  stalks 
tall  and  straight.  But  even  then  the  fingers  soon  got  worn 
and  tender,  the  husks  chafed  the  wrists,  and  the  incessant 
action  made  the  arms  ache  with  fatigue. 

Ah !  that  interminable  row  of  stalks  —  I  shudder  at  it 
again.  But  John  is  there,  and  father  is  there  with  cheery 
words,  and  Rover  is  there  ;  poor  old  Rover,  who  bade  me 
good-by  at  the  gate,  never  to  see  me  again  !  Rover  looks 
into  my  face  with  sympathy,  which  says,  I  wish  I  could  help 
you." 

The  leaves  stream  in  the  wind  like  pennants ;  the  silks 
twine  round  my  wrists  like  tresses  of  hair,  and  the  heap  of 
yellow  corn  slowly  rises  in  the  wide  box  —  and  the  darkness 
falls. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  pictures  which  pass  before  my  eyes 
as  I  hear  the  north  wind  snarl  amid  the  elms  and  twang  at  the 
electric  wires  and  howl  weirdly  at  the  eaves  and  corners  of 
the  house.  I  have  heard  the  wind  in  the  grasses  without 
being  wet,  have  eaten  up  the  melons  again,  have  watched  the 
cattle  without  being  lonely  and  husked  corn  without  being 
tired ;  and  I  am  half-sorry  it  is  all  a  musing,  and  that  I  am  a 
middle-aged  man  in  a  world  of  care  and  struggle  such  as  the 
boy  never  knew. 

The  boy  dreamed  the  man  would  be  happier,  and  now 
the  man  dreams  the  boy  was  happier.    Who  knows?   I  don't. 

HamIvIN  Garland. 


Ranch  Life 


The  word  ranch  is  a  contraction  of  the  Spanish  word 
rancho^  which  means  a  hut  covered  with  branches  or  thatch 
for  herdsmen,  or  a  farming  establishment  for  the  raising  of 
horses  and  cattle. 

On  the  Plains  and  in  the  Southwest  the  word  has  come  to 
be  applied  indiscriminately  to  all  farms,  whether  the  land  be 
used  for  grazing  or  for  agricultural  purposes. 

The  word  has  a  seductive  sound.  It  suggests  beautiful 
and  picturesque  surroundings,  green  trees,  running  streams, 
and  a  life  of  freedom  and  plenty  ;  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget 
the  disappointment  with  which  I  first  looked  on  a  Colorado 
ranch. 

I  saw  a  small,  unpainted  house,  a  story  and  a  half  high  ; 
a  few  outbuildings  built  of  logs  in  the  roughest  manner  ;  no 
fences,  not  a  tree  in  sight,  not  a  bush  ;  chips  and  other  litter 
all  around  ;  tin  cans  lying  about  in  abundance ;  a  most 
desolate-looking  spot,  with  discomfort  and  deprivation  staring 
one  in  the  face  at  every  point. 

This  was  a  cattle-ranch.  The  proprietor  of  it  owns  several 
thousand  head  of  cattle.  He  himself  lives  in  a  good  house 
in  Colorado  Springs. 

This  is  the  most  comfortable  way  to  keep  a  ranch  :  put  a 
man,  or  men,  in  charge  of  it,  and  live  yourself  where  you 
please,  visiting  the  ranch  often  enough  to  see  that  things 
are  in  order.  But  of  course  this  method  is  possible  only  to 
persons  with  means. 

The  principal  grazing  sections  in  Colorado  are  along  the 
Platte,  the  Arkansas  and  the  Republican  Rivers,  but  the 
plains  in  all  sections  are  thus  utilized.    Some  of  the  parks 
lying  high  up  among  the  mountains  also  afford  fine  ranges. 
J  To  the  eye   of   a  stranger,  nothing   could   look  more 

unsuited  for  grazing  than  the  bare  brown  stretches  of  the 


26 


RANCH  LIFK. 


Colorado  plains.  But  there  is  a  sweetness  and  nutrition  in 
the  low,  dried  grasses  which  is  wonderful.  No  hay  that  is 
made  can  compare  with  these  grasses  dried  where  they  stand 
and  ready  to  be  nibbled  all  winter. 

To  a  stranger  nothing  could  seem  more  improbable 
than  that  cattle  should  thrive,  running  all  winter  long 
unsheltered,  uncared  for,  in  a  country  where  the  mercury 
frequently  falls  at  night  to  zero,  and  below,  and  where  snow 
often  covers  the  ground  to  the  depth  of  several  inches.  But 


on  the  whole,  fair  returns,  and  there  are  many  cattlemen  in 
the  state  who  are  growing  steadily  rich. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  sheepmen,  though  this  business  is 
subject  to  greater  risks  and  fluctuations.  When  heavy 
snow-storms  come,  sheep  are  helpless;  they  are  silly,  also, 
and  sometimes  in  a  single  fiock  hundreds  will  be  stifled  to 
death  by  trampling  each  other  underfoot  in  haste  to  get  the 
food  which  has  been  thrown  down  for  them  when  they  have 
been  driven  in  after  a  long  storm. 

One  winter  in  Colorado  was  exceptionally  severe,  and 
thousands  of  sheep  perished  in  the  snow.  The  sheepmen 
took  warning,  and  put  up  sheds  on  a  large  scale. 

It  would  seem  a  simple  matter  of  humanity,  as  well  as 
policy,  to  provide  them.    Cattle  can  run  before  a  storm,  and 


the  facts  show  that 
the  cattle  do  thrive 
under  these  condi- 
tions. 


Sheep  in  the  Snow. 


They  are  very 
thin  in  the  spring, 
and  exceptionally 
severe  snow  storms 
in  March  or  April 
will  kill  off  some 
of  the  feeblest ;  but 
at  the  end  of  the 
year    they  make. 


RANCH  I,IFK. 


27 


it  is  said,  will  often  run  forty  miles  to  escape  one  ;  but  the 
poor  little  sheep  are  too  clumsy  and  slow  ;  they  are  soon 
snowed  in  and  under. 

I^ife  on  the  larger  and  more  remote  ranches  is  lonely  and 
monotonous  to  a  degree  which,  it  must  be  admitted,  can 
hardly  be  wholesome  for  either  mind  or  body. 

The  daily  life  of  a  herder  of  sheep,  for  instance,  seems  but 
one  shade  above  that  of  the  sheep  themselves.  He  takes  his 
flock  out  at  daybreak,  stands  or  lies  still,  watching  them  while 
they  feed,  drives  them  back  to  the  ranch  at  night,  cooks  his 
own  supper,  washes  the  dishes,  and  goes  to  bed  at  nine 
o'clock,  too  tired  to  keep  awake  longer.  This  routine  is 
varied  by  an  interval  of  very  hard  work  in  the  shearing 
season,  and  during  the  weeks  when  the  lambs  are  born  in 
the  spring. 

If  the  ranch  is  near  a  town  of  size,  he  goes,  perhaps  once 
a  week,  to  that  town  to  buy  what  he  needs  ;  but  the  larger 
ranches  are  all  remote  from  towns,  and  must  necessarily 
be  so,  in  order  to  secure  sufficient  range  for  large  flocks  and 
herds. 

For  a  ranch  sixty,  seventy  or  a  hundred  miles  distant  from 
its  centre  of  supplies,  purchases  must  be  made  by  wholesale 
two  or  three  times  a  year,  and  the  ranchmen  will  have  no 
intercourse  with  the  world  except  at  these  times,  and  when 
chance  travellers  pass  by  their  place.  A  primitive  and 
genuine  hospitality  is  kept  on  most  ranches  ;  all  travellers 
feel  free  to  stop  at  them,  and  by  no  means  the  least  of  the 
fatigues  of  the  ranchman's  life  is  the  preparing  meals  at  any 
time  for  as  many  as  happen  to  come. 

These  are  some  of  the  drawbacks  on  ranch  life.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  are  advantages  by  no  means  to  be  scorned  ; 
open  air,  year  in  and  year  out ;  freedom  from  all  conventional 
and  troublesome  customs  ;  independence  and  the  indefinable 
exhilaration  which  almost  all  men  find  in  a  wild  and  untram- 
melled life. 

The  cattlemen  for  a  great  part  of  the  year  have  little  to 


28 


RANCH 


do,  except  to  keep  their  buildings  in  order  and  attend  to  the 
few  animals  they  keep  with  them.  When  the  cattle  are  to  be 
gathered  together,  branded  and  counted,  or  driven  from  one 
range  to  another,  then  the  cattleman  rides,  day  after  day,  as 
madly  as  a  Bedouin  in  the  desert. 

There  is  probably  no  better  riding  than  can  be  seen  at  the 
summer  round-ups,  where  dozens  of  vast  herds  of  cattle  have 
been  gradually  driven  in  from  their  ranges  and  collected  in  a 
dense  mass  in  some  open  place,  for  the  owners  to  pick  out 
their  respective  cattle.  Any  cow  or  steer  found  unbranded 
then  can  be  taken  possession  of  by  any  one;  such  cattle  are 
called  Mavericks,  and  there  are  more  of  them  than  would  be 
supposed ;  they  might  be  called  Ishmaelites  among  cattle. 


A  Lonely  Ranch. 


As  the  ranchman  prospers,  he  adds  building  after  building 
to  his  ranch.  You  may  read  the  history  of  many  ranches  in 
the  successive  stages  of  buildings,  from  the  roughest  of  log 
cabins,  which  was  at  first  the  dwelling  and  is  now  merely 
an  outhouse  for  tools,  implements,  etc.,  up  to  the  two-story 
wooden  house,  possibly  clapboarded,  which  was  at  first  the 
dream  and  is  now  the  home  in  which  the  ranchman's  wife 
takes  pride,  and  in  which  you  will  find  one  or  more  carpeted 
rooms,  a  rocking-chair  or  two  and  a  newspaper  or  magazine. 

I  know  one  ranch,  a  vSheep-ranch,  in  which  the  record  runs 
farther  back  than  the  log  house ;  it  runs  back  to  a  dugout,  a 
sort  of  compromise  between  a  cave  and  a  huge  oblong  ant-hill, 
in  which  the  resolute  sheepman  lived,  or  rather  burrowed,  for 


RANCH  I.IFK. 


29 


more  than  a  year,  when  he  began  his  ranch  life,  like  David, 
with  a  few  sheep  in  the  wilderness.  Now  he  is  the  owner 
of  two  ranches  and  many  thousand  sheep. 

The  one  chief  and  greatest  objection  to  ranch  life  is  the  food. 
This  need  not  be  so  bad,  but  there  seems  an  unconquerable 
tendency  in  men  living  lonely  and  isolated  lives,  and  doing 
with  their  own  hands  all  the  work  to  be  done  in  the  house,  to 
shirk  cooking,  adopt  the  easier  methods  and  fall  into  a  dreary 
monotony  of  diet. 

The  difhculty  of  procuring  any  variety  of  fresh  meats,  also, 
is  another  trouble  which  it  is  easier  to  evade  by  a  perpetual 
recourse  to  ham  and  bacon  than  in  any  other  way. 

The  trouble  of  milking  cows  and  making  butter  is  also  very 
easily  evaded  by  going  without  both  butter  and  milk  ;  and  it 
is  no  uncommon  thing  to  find  a  ranchman  owning  many 
hundreds  of  cows  and  not  milking  one.  All  these  things  are  to 
be  taken  into  account  by  people  who  are  often  recommended 
to  go  out  on  some  ranch  and  rough  it  for  a  year. 

But  after  all  is  said  and  summed  for  and  against  ranch 
life,  there  remains  a  certain  element  in  it  which  can  be  neither 
said  nor  summed ;  and  whose  worth  each  individual  will 
reckon  at  his  own  individual  valuation,  and  cannot  safely 
estimate  for  any  other  man.  It  is  the  nearness  to  nature,  the 
remoteness  from  man,  all  of  which  goes  to  make  up  his 
outdoor  life. 

What  the  Bedouin  knows  of  the  desert  he  could  never  tell ; 
and  the  ranchman  would  probably  find  it  quite  as  hard  to  give 
reasons  for  his  love  of  ranch  life. 

HKI.KN  Hunt  Jackson. 


Cowboys  of  the  Plains. 


There  is  little  of  romance  attending  the  real  life  of  the 
Western  herder.  It  is  about  as  hard  a  life  as  a  young  man 
can  undertake,  unless  he  enters  upon  it  with  his  hands 
full  of  gold  ;  even  then  it  is  no  boy's  sport,  if  he  is  really  in 
earnest. 

I  know  a  graduate  of  one  of  our  great  Eastern  colleges,  a 
young  man  of  culture  and  fortune,  who  went  to  Colorado  with 
sufficient  money  to  buy  and  stock  a  large  ranch.  He  was  wise 
enough  to  know  that  success  depended  upon  strict  attention 
to  business  ;  and  out  of  a  home  of  luxury  he  stepped  into  a 
hut,  where  to-day  he  cooks  his  own  breakfast,  washes  his  own 
clothes,  sleeps  hard  and  works  hard,  all  as  cheerfully  as  if  he 
had  never  known  a  life  of  less  hardship  and  toil. 

In  summer  he  starts  off  before  sunrise,  with  a  piece  of 
jerked  beef  at  his  saddle-bow,  to  ride  all  day  among  his  cattle, 
seeing  that  they  do  not  stray  too  far  from  good  feed  and 
water ;  returning  only  at  night,  to  cook  and  eat  a  hasty 
supper,  and  throw  himself,  weary,  but  thoroughly  contented, 
on  his  hard  couch. 

Sometimes  he  does  not  come  home  at  all  for  days.  Often 
in  winter  he  rides  up  into  the  mountains,  among  the  canons  of 
which  his  cattle  find  shelter  from  the  storms,  and  sleeps  on  the 
snow,  wrapped  like  an  Eskimo,  with  just  a  breathing-hole  in 
his  blanket,  resting  comfortably,  with  the  temperature  of  the 
Colorado  night  sinking  below  zero. 

This  is  the  life  of  his  choice.  But  he  is  his  own  master, 
and  the  master  of  other  men.  There  are  other  former  college 
boys  who  are  now  cowboys,  but  only  a  small  proportion  of 
them  have  his  immense  advantages. 

He  acts^  as  his  own  foreman,  thereby  saving  a  great 
expense.  Foremen  on  large  ranches  command  high  wages, 
often  a  share  in  the  increase  of  the  vStock,  but  it  is  only  an 


COWBOYS  OF  THE  PLAINS. 


31 


experienced,  able  and  fortunate  man  who  obtains  a  situation 
of  this  kind. 

The  ordinary  herder  works  hard  under  strict  discipline, 
obeying  orders  like  a  soldier,  for  thirty  or  forty  dollars  a 
month.  A  good  roper,  however,  gets  more.  A  roper  is  one 
who  can  throw  the  lasso  and  capture  a  steer  stronger  than 
his  horse.    It  requires  skill  and  agility  to  do  that. 


The  Cowboy  in  Winter. 


By  saving  his  wages  and  investing  them  in  cattle,  the 
cowboy  may  in  time  get  a  small  herd  of  his  own,  which  will 
rapidly  grow  to  be  a  large  herd.  Many  prosperous  ranchmen 
have  begun  business  in  this  way. 

But  the  majority  of  cowboys  remain  cowboys  until  they 
wear  out,  or  weary  of  the  work  and  turn  to  something  else. 
The  hard  life  they  lead  induces  reckless  habits,  and  drink  is 


32 


COWBOYS  OF  THK  PIvAINS. 


the  curse  of  many  a  generous  fellow,  who  without  it  could  not 
fail  to  become  an  honorable  and  useful  citizen. 

The  traveller  notices  a  great  difference  among  cowboys,  in 
different  sections  of  the  country,  in  respect  to  sobriety.  Here, 
as  a  class,  they  are  steady  and  industrious  ;  there,  reckless 
and  dissipated  almost  to  a  man.  It  seems  as  if  a  few  strong 
spirits  among  them  influenced  the  rest,  for  good  or  ill.  Hence 
the  danger  which  every  young  man  incurs  who  leaves  family 
and  friends  and  becomes  the  daily  associate  of  a  powerful, 
generous,  jovial,  but  too  often  unprincipled  set  of  men. 

To  a  "tenderfoot"  who  comes  among  them,  timid  and 
complaining,  afraid  of  hardships,  they  can  be  rough  enough 
in  their  fun-making.  But  a  stranger  exhibiting  quiet  qualities 
of  pluck  and  endurance  will  find  them  as  kind  and  helpful  as 
brothers. 

In  winter  the  cattle  on  open  ranges  are  mostly  left  to  take 
care  of  themselves.  They  get  together  in  immense,  straggling 
herds,  from  different  ranches,  feeding  on  sage-brush,  dry 
buffalo-grass  and  bunch-grass,  and  drifting  with  the  storms, 
protecting  one  another  by  the  mass  in  which  they  move,  until 
they  strike  the  mountain  or  some  sheltered  vale.  Travelling 
through  western  Kansas,  I  saw  the  carcasses  of  thousands  of 
cattle  lying  on  the  north  side  of  the  fences  bordering  the 
railroad  track,  where  their  drifting  had  been  intercepted  by 
the  fence,  and  they  had  perished  from  cold  and  starvation. 

It  is  the  business  of  the  cowboy  to  prevent,  if  possible, 
such  calamities.  Then  in  spring  comes  the  general  round-up. 
The  herds  of  various  owners  are  all  mingled  together ;  and 
some  have  strayed  twenty  or  thirty  or  more  miles  from  home. 
The  country  has  to  be  scoured  two  or  three  times  over,  to 
bring  in  all  the  stragglers  from  the  gulches  and  small  streams  ; 
and  weeks  are  ^pent  in  bringing  all  together  in  one  enormous 
bunch. 

All  the  herders  of  the  region  unite  in  the  work  of  the 
round-up.  They  travel  in  companies,  each  with  its  cook  and 
camping  apparatus,  carrying  their  canned  food  with  them, 


COWBOYS  OF  THK  PI^AINS. 


33 


even  their  canned  milk,  if  they  wi.sh  milk  for  their  coffee  ;  for 
one  thing  a  cowboy  never  does  is  to  milk  one  of  his  herd. 

If  they  wish  for  fresh  meat,  they  may,  perhaps,  shoot  an 
antelope  or  deer, where  such  wild  game  still  abides.  Otherwise, 
they  choose  a  Maverick  out  of  the  herd  for  the  butcher's  steel. 
A  Maverick  is  an  animal  that  has  no  brand  ;  so-called  after  a 


The  Work  of  the  Round-Up. 


man  of  that  name  whose  herd,  it  was  noticed,  increased 
magically,  and  who  was  found  to  make  a  businCvSS  of  picking 
up  stray  cattle  that  bore  no  owner's  mark. 

If  no  Maverick  is  handy,  they  choose  any  well-conditioned 
steer,  kill  and  eat  it,  crediting  it  to  the  owner  whose  brand  it 
bears. 

The  round-up  has  reached  its  most  important  stage  when 
all  the  cattle  of  that  part  of  the  country  have  been  bunched. 
Then  comes  the  work  of  cutting  out.  The  most  skilled  of  the 
cowboys  ride  in  among  the  frightened  and  bellowing  herd  and 


34 


COWBOYS  OF  THK  PLAINS. 


separate  the  different  brands,  cutting  out  with  wonderful  dash 
and  rapidity  the  cattle  of  each  owner. 

The  movement,  the  yelling,  the  bellowing,  the  rush  of 
rider  and  horse,  the  flying  rope,  the  running  out  of  the 
selected  animals, —  all  this  gives  great  animation  to  the  scene. 

Occasionally,  in  the  round-up,  neither  the  brand  nor  the 
earmarks  of  a  beast  can  be  readily  made  out.  In  that  case 
the  rope  is  used,  the  creature  thrown,  and  its  sides  washed,  to 
bring  out  traces  of  the  hot  iron,  which,  once  burnt  into  the 
flesh,  are  never  wholly  effaced. 

The  laws  concerning  the  brands  of  cattle  and  sheep  are 
very  strict.  In  Denver  there  is  an  official  register  of  all  the 
legal  brands  in  the  state.  No  man  is  allowed  to.  imitate 
another  man's  brand  ;  and  he  must  have  his  own  duly 
registered.  If  he  buys  an  animal,  he  at  once  adds  his  own 
brand  to  that  of  its  former  owner. 

Cowboys  become  very  skilful  riders,  and  they  are 
sometimes  fond  of  showing  off.  In  southern  Colorado  I 
witnessed  some  performances  which  were  as  good  as  any 
equestrian  feats  I  ever  saw.  A  cowboy  rode  through  the 
streets  of  a  small  town  at  full  gallop,  picking  up  whatever 
was  thrown  in  the  way  before  him, —  a  hat,  a  whip,  a 
handkerchief.  This  he  did  by  stooping  from  his  saddle, 
putting  down  one  hand  to  the  ground,  while  he  held  on  by 
the  other  and  by  his  feet,  and  springing  up  into  his  place 
again  without  even  slackening  speed. 

Then  he  galloped  through  the  streets,  lassoing  dogs, 
cattle,  and  even  his  friends.  I  noticed  that  the  rope  was 
gathered  in  a  coil,  with  a  noose  at  the  end  about  six  feet  long  ; 
this  was  swung  around  the  rider's  head  several  times,  and 
finally  projected  twenty  or  thirty  feet,  with  surprising 
accuracy,  at  the  object  to  be  captured.  A  dog  usually 
slipped  his  head  out  of  the  loop  as  it  tightened,  and  ran  away 
yelping  ;  but  a  horned  creature  had  to  wait  until  released. 

But  the  most  exciting  fun  was  when  two  cowboys,  in 
picturesque  hats  and  fantavStically  fringed  leather  leggings, 


COWBOYS  OP  THK  PLAINS. 


35 


mounted  on  the  briskest  of  ponies,  attempted  lassoing  each 
other.  As  one  flung  his  rope,  the  other  would  dodge  it  by 
dropping  down  on  his  horse's  neck,  or  leaning  over  the  side 
of  his  saddle  ;  then  he  would  spring  up  and  fling  his  rope  in 
turn . 

Once  both  were  noosed  ;  then  it  was  diverting  to  see  the 
trained  horses  pull  and  back  and  brace  themselves,  and  the 
men  haul  at  the  ropes,  each  trying  to  free  himself  and  at 
the  same  time  to  drag  down  his  antagonist.  The  horses 
seemed  to  understand  the  friendly  game,  and  to  enjoy  it  as 
well  as  the  men,  though  they  themselves  sometimes  got  lassoed 
over  the  neck  or  about  the  legs. 

I  most  earnestly  advise  every  youth  who  is  ambitious  of 
being  a  ranchman  or  a  cowboy  to  learn  something  of  the  trials 
and  hardships  he  will  have  to  undergo  before  attempting  that 
new  life  ;  then,  if  resolved  to  undertake  it,  to  set  out  fully 
prepared  to  encounter,  with  Spartan  sobriety,  hot  suns,  cold 
nights,  and  the  hardest  of  hard  fare  and  hard  work.  Unless 
his  health  is  of  the  soundest,  let  him  not  risk  it  in  the  saddle 
and  bivouac  of  the  Colorado  cowboy's  life. 

If  he  has  money,  and  wishes  to  go  into  the  business  of 
cattle-raising,  let  him  first  learn  that  business  on  a  well-ordered 
ranch.  After  a  few  months  he  may  be  able  to  decide  whether 
it  will  suit  him,  or  whether  he  can  safely  invest  his  life  and 
capital  in  it. 

J.  T.  Trowbridgk. 


T  ^  ^      ^  i|ilM 


The  Great  Cattle-Trails. 


When  the  government  opened  the  Indian  Territory  lands 
to  settlement  it  ended  a  unique  feature  of  the  prairies,  the 
cattle-trails.  These  broad,  hard-floored  paths,  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  wide,  reaching  away  over  valley  and  hill  for 
five  hundred  miles,  were  the  thoroughfares  leading  up  from 
the  vast  feeding-grounds  of  Texas  and  New  Mexico  to  the 
shipping  stations  of  the  North.  The  cattle  that  followed  these 
irregular  roads  were  worth  millions  of  dollars. 

From  the  start  under  Texas  skies  until  the  freight-train 
carried  the  last  of  the  herd  from  the  Kansas  or  Nebraska 
station,  the  herders  lived  in  almost  continuous  excitement  and 
severe  labor.  But  the  task  was  one  that  hundreds  of  energetic 
young  men  enjoyed,  for  the  cowboy  was  a  power  when  on  the 
trail.  Moreover,  his  position  was  often  the  starting-point 
toward  the  wealth  and  dignity  of  a  cattle-owner,  with  a  ranch 
and  herds  of  his  own. 

The  first  trail  across  the  Indian  Territory  was  opened  in 
1867  by  Joseph  G.  McCoy  of  Illinois,  then  scarcely  more  than 
a  boy,  after  he  had  heard  some  stockmen  talking  of  the 
peculiar  condition  of  the  cattle  industry.  The  herds  of  Texas 
were  increasing  rapidly,  but  there  was  no  way  to  get  them  to 
market. 

Young  McCoy  went  out  on  the  railroad  then  partly  built 
across  Kansas,  and  after  a  long  interview  with  the  manager 
persuaded  him  to  construct  stock-yards  at  Abilene,  the 
extreme  western  limit  of  the  completed  track.  The  manager 
had  little  faith  in  the  project,  but  decided  to  give  the 
enthusiastic  vivSitor  a  chance. 

McCoy  sent  out  messengers,  who  rode  toward  Texas, 
seeking  the  cattlemen.  For  some  weeks  they  journeyed 
through  the  Indian  Territory,  and  were  usually  laughed  at 
when  they  proposed  driving  cattle  to  the  new  shipping-point. 


THE  GREAT  CATTLE-TRAILS. 


37 


Nevertheless,  one  herd  of  twenty-five  hundred  head  was  turned 
northward,  and  the  owners  made  such  handsome  profits  that 
the  business  grew  rapidly. 

Thirty-seven  thousand  head  were  shipped  that  season  and 
nearly  eighty  thousand  in  1868.  Thenceforth  the  business 
steadily  increased  and  became  permanent.    The  trails  were 


soon  well-defined,  and  could  be  seen  for  miles,  brown  and 
dusty  furrows,  washed  by  the  rains,  flanked  by  drifted 
sand-banks,  and  sprinkled  with  skeletons  of  animals  that  had 
died  on  the  road. 

Individual  ranch-owners  sometimes  broke  their  own  paths, 
but  nine-tenths  of  the  north-bound  cattle  were  driven  over  the 
established  courses.  During  the  height  of  the  season  the 
herds  were  so  close  together  as  to  be  with  difficulty  kept  from 


38 


THE  GREAT  CATTI,E-TRAILS. 


mingling.  Five  and  even  seven  or  eight  thousand  cattle  were 
driven  in  a  body.  The  narrow  column,  strung  out  for  two 
miles  or  more,  with  its  broad-hatted  guards  riding  at  intervals 
alongside,  had  much  the  appearance  of  an  army  on  the  march. 

A  peculiarity  of  cattle  on  the  trail  is  that  they  arrange 
themselves  instinctively  in  regular  order.  Once  well  under 
way,  certain  broad-breasted  ones  will  be  found  always  in  the 
lead.  Others  will  cause  much  annoyance  by  wandering  from 
the  line  in  search  of  novel  experiences,  while  the  weak  drift 
steadily  to  the  rear  and  are  finally  deserted,  as  prey  for  the 
skulking  coyotes. 

Not  more  than  ten  to  fifteen  miles  a  day  were  made  by  the 
herds,  and  many  weeks  were  spent  on  the  march.  The  cattle 
were  guarded  night  and  day  by  the  herders  in  relays.  A 
camp-wagon  with  cooking-utensils  and  sleeping  arrangements 
followed  the  moving  procession,  and  was  the  temporary  home 
of  the  guards. 

Added  to  his  liability  to  attack  when  separated  from  his 
pony,  the  cowboy  had  to  contend  with  the  danger  of  stampede. 
To  control  five  thousand  fleet  Texas  cattle,  having  long, 
sharp-pointed  horns,  is  no  simple  task,  for  at  the  crackling  of 
a  stick  or  the  howl  of  a  wolf  every  head  may  be  raised,  and 
the  hairy  mass  run  off  in  a  blind  panic.  It  is  impossible  to 
stop  the  herd  by  riding  in  front  of  it. 

The  common  method  of  bringing  the  mad  creatures  to  their 
senses  was  by  riding  on  one  side  of  the  leaders,  and  gradually 
turning  them  until  the  herd  was  running  in  a  circle.  Then, 
however,  another  danger  arose,  that  of  "milling."  This 
turning  like  a  millstone  wore  out  the  less  muscular  animals, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  stop  it  as  soon  as  possible. 

Sitting  quietly  on  their  horses,  the  cowboys  would  join  in 
some  old-fashioned  hymn,  singing  lustily  the  pious  words 
familiar  in  boyhood.  One  by  one  the  whirling  cattle  would 
halt  and  listen,  until  soon  the  whole  herd  was  quiet  once  more. 

A  soothing  influence  was  attributed  to  any  musical  sound, 
and  the  herders  had  a  custom  of  attaching  a  heavy  bell  to  the 


THE  GRKAT  CATTI.K-TRAII,S. 


39 


stirrup  or  saddle-horn,  believing  that  the  steady  ringing  made 
the  cattle  more  tractable. 

Frequently  half  a  herd  would  be  lost  by  a  night  stampede, 
the  cattle  rushing  pell-mell  off  a  bluff  or  into  a  morass.  There 
was  a  feeling  of  relief  on  the  part  of  both  owners  and  cowboys 
when,  after  an  outbreak  of  this  kind,  the  great  herd  were 
peacefully  grazing  as  before. 

Sometimes  a  herd  of  buffalo  would  cross  the  trail  in  a  wild 
rush  from  some  foe,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  the  cattle 
could  be  kept  from  following  their  bovine  cousins. 

Indian  attacks  were  always  to  be  feared.  Again,  the 
exposure  which  came  from  all-night  rides  in  the  saddle 
through  drenching  storms  was  trying  to  the  health.  The 
rivers  were  broad  and  sometimes  deep.  Crossing  them 
entailed  no  little  risk. 

Arrived  at  the  shipping  station  at  the  northern  end  of  the 
trail,  the  cowboy  prepared  for  a  period  of  enjoyment.  After 
loading  the  unruly  steers  he  was  paid  off  for  the  year,  and 
with  his  pockets  filled  with  money  he  too  often  indulged  in 
a  week  of  dissipation. 

In  1869  and  1870  half  a  million  head  of  cattle  w^ere  shipped 
from  Abilene,  and  the  next  year  a  full  million  were  driven 
over  the  trails.  Other  stations  were  now  shipping,  but  most 
of  the  herds  headed  toward  Abilene.  For  twenty  miles  in 
every  direction  they  were  pasturing  on  the  plains  through  the 
late  summer  and  fall.  Never  before  or  since  in  the  West  have 
so  many  cattle  been  massed  in  so  small  a  territory. 

It  was  an  unfortunate  season  for  the  dealers.  Spanish 
fever  broke  out  among  the  herds,  and  the  Eastern  markets 
would  not  allow  the  Texas  cattle  to  enter.  Three  hundred 
thousand  head  remained  on  the  prairies  of  central  Kansas 
when  fall  came. 

Early  in  the  winter,  about  the  first  of  December,  a  three 
days'  storm  of  sleet,  which  froze  as  it  fell,  covered  the  buffalo- 
grass  with  ice.  The  cattle  died  of  starvation  by  the  thousand, 
and  their  carcasses  were  skinned  and  left  on  the  plain. 


40  THB  GRKAT  CATTI,E-TRAII,S. 

From  one  station  fifty  thousand  hides  were  shipped,  from 
another  twenty  thousand,  and  from  Abilene  thirty  thousand. 
Hundreds  of  horses  and  a  score  of  cowboys  perished,  and 
that  winter  is  yet  remembered  as  the  most  terrible  in  Kansas 
history. 

After  that  there  was  no  more  boom  in  cattle-drives,  but 
year  after  year  from  one  to  two  hundred  thousand  head  came 
leisurely  over  the  trails,  finding  ready  market.  Even  after 
the  railroad  had  made  its  way  through  the  Indian  Territory 
the  cattlemen  kept  the  trails  well  worn,  because  they  could, 
by  driving  overland,  escape  the  semi-tropical  heat  of  the  South 
and  save  considerable  expense  in  freight. 

The  cattle  business  is  greater  in  the  West  to-day  than  ever. 
There  are  a  hundred  head  where  there  was  one  during  the 
palmy  cattle-trail  days,  but  they  are  scattered  over  the  settlers' 
farms  and  the  fenced  ranches,  instead  of  roaming  the  prairies. 

In  the  Northwest,  in  Wyoming,  Montana  and  Idaho,  are 
great  ranches,  with  their  cowboys  and  round-ups  and 
brandings.  Trails  lead  from  park  to  park,  and  along  the 
foot-hills  of  the  Rockies  make  highways  for  transferring 
cattle  from  the  ranches  of  New  Mexico  to  the  northern 
feeding-grounds,  where,  after  having  spent  the  summer 
moving  slowly  over  the  prairie,  they  are  fattened  on  the  corn 
of  Nebraska  and  Dakota.  These  paths,  however,  resemble 
little  in  size  or  use  the  original  trails  of  the  middle  West. 

Where  the  herds  once  crossed  the  Indian  Territory,  the 
settlers  are  planting  corn  and  sowing  wheat.  But  traces  of 
the  great  cattle-trails  will  remain  for  years  to  come.  Together 
with  the  weather-worn  buildings,  saloons  and  gambling- 
houses  in  the  old  time,  the  cattle-towns  and  the  unmarked 
graves  of  cowboys  in  the  prairie  cemeteries,  they  are  the 
visible  tokens  of  a  passing  era  and  its  attendant  life. 


C.  M.  Harger. 


The  Language  of  Cattle-Brands 


The  language  of  cattle-brands  is  very  perplexing  to  a  man 
who  has  never  before  met  it.  It  is  written  on  the  hides  of 
living  cattle  with  a  hot  iron  for  a  pen.  A  man  may  never 
have  to  learn  to  write  it,  but  he  may  have  trouble  enough  in 
reading  it  after  it  is  written. 

At  present  a  large  part  of  the  branding  is  done  with  what 
are  known  as  dotting-irons.  There  are  two  of  these  ;  one  a 
straight  iron  bar  and  one  a  half-circle.  With  these  two  irons 
nearly  any  brand  imaginable  can  be  made,  but  necessarily 
only  in  a  somewhat  imperfect  manner.  When  we  consider  the 
material  and  the  instruments  used  in  the  writing,  we  cease  to 
wonder  that  the  writing  itself  is  hard  to  read. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  that  you  were  on  your  pony  galloping 
across  the  prairie,  and  that  about  a  hundred  yards  or  more 

to  the  right  you  should  see  a  steer  with  what  look  —   

like  scars  on  its  left  hip,  something  like  these  marks  :   "T  I 
How  would  you  tell  what  kind  of  a  brand  you  had  noticed  ? 
An  algebra  student  might  possibly  call  it  minus  or  plus  T,  but 
the  ranch  foreman  would  only  stare  and  wonder  what  that 
meant.    He  himself  would  probably  say  something  like  this  : 

"Say,  pardner,  I  noticed  one  of  them  barcrossty  steers 
back  in  that  bunch  yonder." 

Probably  the  reader  may  not  remember  ever  having  heard 
the  word  barcrossty  before ;  Noah  Webster  was  equally 
ignorant  when  he  compiled  his  dictionary.  There  are  many 
other  words  used  on  the  stock-trail  that  he  never  heard  of. 
However,  it  is  written  on  the  hips  of  thousands  of  cattle  on  the 
plains  as  clear  as  can  be.  Look  at  the  brand  again :  bar-cross-T. 
How  could  it  be  made  any  plainer  ? 

Suppose,  again,  that  a  muscular-looking  man  with  two 
six-shooters  in  his  belt  should  bring  his  wiry  little  bronco  to 
a  halt  and  address  you  thus  : 


42  ME  I.ANGUAGE  OF  CATTl^E-BRANDS. 

''Hold  on  there  a  minute,  pard.  Have  you  seen  any  of 
them  nail-shoe-nail  steers  over  on  your  part  of  the  range?" 

Would  you  know  how  to  answer  him  ?    Probably  ^ 
not,  for  the  brand  which  he  refers  to  is  made  like  this  :  — '  ^ — 
That  half-circle  in  the  centre  is  supposed  by  courtesy  to  be 
a  horseshoe,  while  the  two  straight  lines  sticking  out  at  each 
end  are  nails.    So  you  can  clearly  see  the  nail-shoe-nail. 

Now  the  reader  has  got  this  much  of  a  start  at  ^ 
learning  the  language,  let  him  try  to  read  this  brand  :  — ^ 
It  is  the  shoe-bar  brand,  and  is  used  by  one  of  the  wealth- 
iest stockmen  in  Texas.    It  is  quite  easy  to  read,  after  you 
know  how  to  read  it.    You  will  have  little  or  ^ 
no  difficulty  in  reading  two  more  simple  brands  :  ^ 
Cattle  that  wear  the  first  sign  are  known  as  the  anvil  stock  ; 
those  bearing  the  second  mark  are  the  circle-bars  cattle. 
"^1 — ) —    Here  is  still  another  brand  that  may  possibly  be 
\      harder  for  you  to  read.    It  is  the  brand  of  a  wealthy 
stock-owner  whose  name  is  Mr.  Drake.    It  is  supposed  to  be 
the  picture  of  a  drake,  or  duck.    It  is  merely  a  matter  of 
justice,  though,  to  remark  that  the  likeness  is  a  gross  libel  on 
Texas  ducks.    It  does  not  look  like  them  at  all. 

— Here  is  another  brand,  in  which  the  likeness  is  not 

— much  better.  This  is  the  turtle  brand,  and  it  takes 
two  impressions  of  the  half-circle  and  six  of  the  straight  bar  to 
make  it.  Two  of  these  latter  are  for  the  head  and  tail ;  the 
other  four  are  for  the  legs. 

Of  course  many  of  the  brands  in  use  consist  of  letters 
and  figures,  but  these  have  been  used  so  often  that  a  new 
combination  is  difficult  to  find.  Moreover,  most  letters  can  be 
added  to  or  changed  until  the  original  brand  is  lost  sight  of. 
Changing  brands  was  formerly  one  of  the  most  frequently 
practised  methods  of  cattle-stealing. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  man  named  Charles  Upton  who 
came  to  Texas  shortly  after  the  war,  and  took  for  his  brand 
CD.  A  dishonest  neighbor  settled  near  him  and  took  for 
his  brand  I  C  U.    Thus  by  merely  one  stroke  of  his  iron  he 


THK  lyANGUAGK  OF  CATTlvK- BRANDS. 


43 


got  his  brand  on  many  of  his  neighbor's  cattle.  The  first  man 
then  changed  his  brand  to  I  C  U  2.  ".I  see  you,  too."  By 
using  the  additional  characters  he  got  back  all  his  original 
cattle  with  good  interest. 

A  few  years  ago  a  thrilling  story  was  told  in  The  Youth's 
Companion  of  the  recovery  of  a  large  herd  from  cattle-thieves 
who  adroitly  changed  a  brand  of  two  letters.  The  owner, 
Joseph  Villemont,  marked  his  cattle  with  his  initials,  ^ 
which,  by  the  skilful  addition  of  only  three  straight  w  ai 
lines,  the  clever  stock-thieves  changed  to  this  brand 
and  at  the  round-up  claimed  all  the  bar-Y-N  stock.  Their 
dishonesty  was  discovered  by  an  acute  cowboy,  who  recognized 
in  their  herd  a  j-v  steer  with  which  he  had  had  a  tussle  some 
time  before. 

It  is  to  prevent  such  dishonest  practices  that  some  of  the 
brands  have  been  brought  into  use  which  I  have  described. 
They  may  seem  unnecessarily  complicated,  but  they  show  the 
owners'  determination  to  secure  a  mark  that  cannot  be  easily 
disfigured,  and  that  shall  prove  entirely  distinct  from  all 
previously  registered  brands. 

P.  W.  Hqrn. 


Breaking  a  Bronco. 


Anna's  first  view  of  the  performance  called  breaking  a 
bronco  was  from  a  corral  fence.  She  sat  out  of  harm's  way, 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  cattle-shoot,  a  little  enclosure  leading 
into  the  corral. 

The  two  young  men,  or  boys,  looked  quite  picturesque. 
They  wore  stiff,  seatless,  leather  trousers  with  fringed  seams, 
for  protection  against  barbed  wire,  sharp  stones  and  the  like. 
The  usual  far- western  gear,  flannel  shirts,  sombreros  and 
buckskin  gloves,  completed  their  dress. 

On  this  occasion  John  took  a  well-broken  horse  named 
Stub,  collected,  or  rounded  up,  a  bunch  of  eight  animals,  and 
drove  them  into  the  corral.  It  was  amusing  to  watch  the  boys 
circumventing  these  horses  till  all  were  within  the  gate. 
Then  Stub  was  tied  without,  the  bars  put  up,  and  John  and 
Carlos  walked  into  the  corral. 

After  several  vain  attempts,  John  lassoed  a  dun  mare,  which 
they  were  especially  anxious  to  break,  passed  the  loose  end  of 
his  rope  around  the  snubbing-post  and  held  it  tight.  Carlos 
speedily  noosed  the  mare  also.  He  then  let  the  other  horses 
into  the  pasture. 

The  boys,  to  tame  the  dun,  concluded  to  choke  her  down. 
Carlos  kept  behind  her  at  a  safe  distance,  holding  his  rope 
taut,  and  gradually  drove  her  close  to  the  snubbing-post. 
John  drew  his  rope  shorter  as  fast  as  she  approached.  The 
dun,  with  both  ropes  around  her  neck,  stood  breathing  hard. 
Carlos  pulled  on  his  rope,  choking  her,  and  she  soon  lay 
down.    He  ran  and  knelt  on  her  neck. 

She  threw  up  her  head  a  few  times,  but  made  no  other 
resistance  while  he  pulled  her  jaws  open  and  proclaimed  her 
a  three-year-old. 

He  next  loosened  his  rope  on  her  neck  and  knotted  it 
securely  at  the  chest.    Then  he  caught  her  right  hind  foot  in 


BRKAKING  A  BRONCO. 


45 


a  noose  and  tied  it  firmly.  In  his  hurry  he  had  made  a 
mistake  and  caught  up  the  wrong  hind  foot.  A  horse  is 
broken  from  the  left  side,  as  it  is  mounted  from  that  side. 
However,  as  the  dun  was  evidently  not  fierce,  it  was  decided 
to  let  the  rope  remain  as  it  was. 

All  this  time  John  had  been  holding  his  rope  steady  on  the 
other  side  of  the  post,  in  case  the  dun  should  try  to  get  away. 
Now  he  secured  it  and  came  round  to  help  Carlos. 

They  tied  a  blind,  or  cloth,  just  above  her  eyes.  Then 
Carlos  rose  from  the  dun's  neck  and  tried  to  scare  her  up. 
She  would  not  budge,  but  lay  and  groaned  till  Anna  thought 
she  must  be  dying.    The  boys  said  she  was  only  sulking. 

As  she  persistently  refused  to  rise,  they  used  the  blacksnake 
whip  on  her,  but  to  no  purpose.  So  John  pulled  her  head  up 
by  the  snubbing-rope  and 
Carlo's  pushed  her  from 
behind.  She  gave  a  wild 
scramble,  and  stood  erect 
on  three  feet. 

While  Carlos  had  been 
on  her  neck  he  had  patted 
and  rubbed  her,  to  gentle 
her  by  degrees,  but  she  did 
not  like  it — wild  horses 
never  do. 

When  she  was  standing,  Carlos  gradually  approached  her 
to  draw  down  the  blind  above  her  eyes.  She  backed  off  as 
far  as  she  could  till  choked  by  the  noose  that  was  around  her 
neck  and  secured  to  the  snubbing-post.  Then  she  lay  down 
again. 

They  hoisted  her  up  once  more,  and  blinded  her  by  pulling 
the  cloth  down  over  her  eyes ;  ^  then  John  threw  on  the 
saddle-blanket  and  the  saddle.  She  immediately  lay  down 
and  refused  to  move,  even  when  they  raised  the  blind.  The 
boys  took  a  brief  rest,  while  she  groaned  continuously. 

They  lifted  her  again  till  she  scrambled  up,  when  the 


A  Three-year-old. 


46 


BREAKING  A  BRONCO. 


saddle  was  quickly  cinched,  or  girthed.  As  they  finished, 
she  lay  down  again  and  began  to  groan  dolefully. 

A  bridle  was  placed  in  her  mouth,  and  the  rope  confining 
her  foot  taken  off.  She  was  allowed  to  lie  and  groan  while 
John  brought  up  a  red  colt  and  turned  him  into  the  pasture. 
When  he  returned,  the  dun  had  discovered  that  her  foot  was 
free,  and  she  was  standing. 

John  brought  Stub  to  a  convenient  spot,  removed  the 
snubbing-rope,  and  pulled  down  the  blind  over  the  dun's  eyes. 


Getting  Ready  to  Ride. 

Then  he  led  her  into  the  road  by  tugging  at  the  bridle,  while 
Carlos  went  behind  with  a  whip  and  touched  her  when  she 
balked. 

Carlos  took  the  bridle  and  sprang  into  the  saddle.  John 
pulled  up  the  blind  and  jumped  aside.  Away  went  the  dun, 
racing  across  the  prairie.  Whenever  she  came  too  near 
barbed  wire  or  other  danger,  John,  on  Stub,  headed  her  off. 

Half  an  hour's  hard  running  tired  her  out,  and  John  drove 
her  again  into  the  corral.  The  bridle  was  of  no  use  to  guide 
her  until  she  had  had  several  breakings-in,  but  it  was  useful 
in  holding  her  head  up  to  prevent  her  bucking,  or  leaping  up 


BRKAKING  A  BRONCO. 


47 


and  coming  down  on  her  forefeet.  To  buck  thoroughly  a 
horse  must  get  its  head  down  to  its  knees. 

As  soon  as  they  were  in  the  corral  John  dismounted  from 
Stub  and  held  the  dun's  blind  down  while  Carlos  sprang  off. 
It  took  over  two  hours  to  tire  her  out  this  time. 

There  is  as  much  difference  in  horses  as  in  human  beings, 
so  bronco-breaking  was  an  ever-novel  sight  to  Anna.  She 
learned  that  there  were  in  the  West  professional  horse- 
breakers,  who  go  about  breaking  broncos  for  from  three 
dollars  to  eight  dollars  per  animal,  riding  each  horse  from  two 
to  six  times.    It  is  a  hard  life,  and  soon  cripples  a  man. 

The  next  horse  the  boys  broke  was  named  Texas.  He 
took  the  process  very  calmly,  but  after  he  had  been  used 
several  times  he  proved  a  bucker.  Fr)r  his  first  experiment 
he  chose  a  time  when  Carlos  was  alone  and  remote  from 
assistance.  Carlos  stayed  by  him,  but  with  some  difficulty, 
as  he  was  not  expecting  such  behavior. 

Texas  was  not  choked  down,  but  after  being  snubbed  up 
was  caught  by  the  hind  leg  and  thrown.  This  is  the  method 
usually  employed  with  a  full-grown  animal. 

It  is  said  by  old  bronco-breakers  that  a  horse  is  easier  to 
conquer  if  he  bucks  at  first.  He  then  learns  thoroughly  that 
his  rider  is  his  master.  An  animal  that  bucks  after  being  in 
use  becomes,  if  he  succeeds  in  unseating  his  rider,  very  hard 
to  cure  of  this  habit.    He  is  then  known  as  a  spoilt  horse. 


Hestkr  Washburnk. 


A  Chase  for  Wild  Horses. 


Toney  lived  on  the  plains  near  the  famous  North  Platte 
River.  One  day,  while  following  some  thievish  Indians,  he 
discovered  a  number  of  wild  horses,  and  planned  to  capture 
the  whole  herd. 

He  told  his  discovery  to  several  friends  whose  lives  were 
spent  in  the  saddle,  herding  horses  and  cattle,  and  who  owned 
tough,  wiry  broncos.  It  was  agreed  that  a  concerted  effort 
should  be  made  to  secure  the  herd  for  the  good  price  they 
would  bring  in  the  local  market. 

The  men  assembled,  as  agreed  upon,  and  with  six  or  seven 
days'  rations  for  the  party  and  forage  for  their  horses  in  a 
wagon,  they  started  for  the  Blue  Water,  which  they  reached 
in  a  day's  march.  Here  they  camped  on  the  stream  and 
gave  their  riding  horses  a  good  rest,  while  on  the  next  day 
two  men  with  the  horses  from  the  wagon  rode  up  the  valley 
^  to  locate  the  herd.  Although  the  horses  did  not  appear,  their 
fresh  tracks  were  seen,  and  the  two  men  returned  to  camp 
to  report  the  fact. 

Before  the  sun  had  set  that  day,  four  of  the  horsemen, 
with  their  blankets  tied  behind  their  saddles,  left  camp  and 
ascended  the  valley  to  the  place  in  the  creek  bottom 
where  the  tracks  of  the  wild  horses  that  came  to  drink  in  the 
morning  and  cool  of  the  evening  were  thickest.  Posting  one 
man  in  sight  of  the  drinking-pool,  the  others  took  positions 
down  the  stream  about  a  mile  apart,  in  such  locations  that 
the  horses  could  not  drink  without  being  seen. 

Their  purpose  was  to  keep  the  wild  horses  from  getting  a 
drink  that  evening  or  next  morning,  so  that  on  the  morrow's 
run  they  would  be  at  a  great  disadvantage,  compared  with 
their  own  fresh  horses. 

One  of  the  men  saw  them  trooping  down  as  dusk  was 
coming  on.    He  let  them   get  very  near  the  water,  then 


A  CHASK  FOR  WII.D  HORSKS. 


49 


frightened  them  back  ;  not  violently,  but  just  enough  to  make 
them  take  to  the  hills.  In  about  a  half-hour  they  came 
cautiously  back,  stopping  every  minute  or  two,  with  ears 
pricked  forward,  to  survey  the  scene,  especially  where  the 
horsemen  had  appeared. 


The  Wild  Horses. 

Again  he  allowed  them  to  approach  near  to  the  water, 
when  he  slowly  rode  toward  them,  and  they  trotted  rapidly 
away  as  before. 

Soon  darkness  set  in,  and  as  these  animals  never  travel  at 
night  it  was  fair  to  presume  that  they  had  gone  to  rest  with- 


50 


A  chase:  for  wiIvD  horses. 


out  their  evening  drink,  a  deprivation  to  which  they  were  not 
altogether  unaccustomed.  Having  discovered  where  the  wild 
horses  came  to  drink,  the  scattering  line  of  men  drew  together 
at  this  point,  partook  of  a  cold  supper,  picketed  their  horses 
on  the  best  patches  of  grass  near  by,  and,  spreading  their 
blankets  on  the  ground,  went  to  sleep. 

At  the  first  break  of  day  they  arose,  ate  their  breakfast 
cold,  and  with  their  horses  saddled,  waited  for  their  prey. 
They  strung  along  the  stream,  but  not  so  far  apart  as  before, 
for  when  the  wild  horses  put  in  an  appearance  again  they 
wanted  to  be  near  enough  for  concerted  action.  They  had 
not  waited  very  long  when  the  horses  came  over  the  hills  and 
down  into  the  valley,  toward  the  stream,  with  an  assured  walk, 
as  if  they  felt  certain  that  their  annoyance  of  the  evening 
before  must  have  had  ample  time  to  get  away. 

When  the  horses  were  about  to  drink,  they  were  turned 
back  toward  the  hills  and  followed  by  the  nearest  two  men 
at  a  slow  trot.  The  other  two  men  now  mounted  and  walked 
their  horses  to  the  top  of  the  nearest  high  hill  overlooking  the 
country  for  miles,  and  there  sat  down  to  wait.  The  horsemen 
following  the  herd  rode  at  a  trot  to  the  crest  of  the  hills,  where 
they  saw  them  on  a  distant  ridge,  probably  a  mile  away, 
and  turned  toward  them. 

Again  they  followed  at  a  trot,  the  intention  being  to 
allow  them  no  time  to  graze.  This  desultory  and  long  dis- 
tance chase  was  kept  up  until  the  wild  horses  had  been 
followed  some  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  to  the  northwest,  when 
the  two  horsemen,  by  making  a  wide  detour,  got  around 
them  and  started  them  back. 

Now  the  chase  was  made  much  more  energetic,  and  the 
whole  caravan  was  kept  at  a  good  swinging  gallop,  till  the 
two  horsemen  recognized  that  they  were  very  near  the  Blue 
Water  again,  when  they  pressed  the  panting  wild  horses  at  a 
fast  run,  although  they  were  not  able  to  get  closer  than  four 
or  five  hundred  yards.  Lathered  with  sweat,  the  pursuers 
and  pursued  reached  the  Blue  Water,  and  as  the  latter  gained 


A  CHASK  FOR  WIIvD  HORSKS. 


51 


the  crest  the  second  set  of  men  took  up  the  chase,  giving  the 
wild  horses  hardly  time  to  breathe,  and  running  them  over  the 
same  course. 

Hardly  two  or  three  miles  had  been  made  before  it  was 
seen  that  the  wild  horses  could  be  easily  turned  to  the  right 
or  left ;  and  after  a  mile  or  so  was  added  to  this  distance  they 
were  sent  back,  and  once  more  approached  the  fated  hill,  with 
their  pursuers  not  a  hundred  yards  behind  them.  The  two 
men  on  the  hill  drew  cuts  for  the  next  run,  for  the  horses  were 
so  well  in  hand  that  a  single  horseman  on  a  rested  animal 
'could  easily  control  them  and  direct  their  movements. 

This  single  rider  hardly  chased  them  a  mile  before  he 
turned  them  and  brought  them  back,  almost  as  hard  as  he 
could  press  them,  not  ten  yards  in  their  rear.  The  next 
man,  when  he  desired  to  turn  them  at  the  end  of  his  chase 
out  over  the  rolling  prairie,  simply  dashed  through  the 
exhausted  herd,  and  when  sighted  coming  back  he  was  seen 
lashing  the  rear  ones  to  keep  them  going. 

The  two  most  tired  horsemen  now  returned  to  camp, 
leaving  the  freshest  at  this  alternating  pursuit ;  and  when 
the  wild  horses,  thoroughly  tired  out  and  tamed  down,  could 
be  driven  in  any  direction  whatever,  as  if  they  were  so  many 
domesticated  cattle,  these  two  turned  them  toward  the  camp, 
keeping  them  at  a  gait  that  gave  them  no  rest. 

When  they  passed  the  camp,  the  other  horsemen  had 
exchanged  their  animals  for  fresh  ones,  and  taking  the  herd 
on  hand  they  drove  them  across  the  North  Platte  River 
so  fast  that  they  could  not  drink.  They  were  followed 
by  the  entire  camp,  wagon  and  all,  for  the  fastest  speed  the 
horses  could  possibly  maintain  now  was  only  a  good  dog-trot. 

At  the  close  of  the  day  they  had  the  satisfaction  of  driving 
the  whole  herd  into  a  cattle-corral  at  a  railroad  station,  some 
fifteen  miles  distant,  and  before  the  sun  had  set  the  next  day 
they  sold  them  to  a  wealthy  ranchman. 

Max  Owen. 


Ancient  Farmers  and  Sportsmen. 


Long  before  Columbus  claimed  this  continent  for  his 
♦  sovereign,  thousands  of  steady,  patient,  industrious  farmers 
tilled  the  soil  and  planted  wheat  in  Texas.  They  were 
dwarfs  in  size,  but  having  six  legs,  were  capable,  perhaps,  of 
enduring  as  much  fatigue  as  larger  beings.  They  were 
dumb,  but  possessed  a  silent  language  quite  as  eloquent 
and  intelligible  to  each  other  as  any  taught  in  asylums  for 
deaf-mutes  to-day. 

The  prairies  of  southern  and  western  Texas  are  dotted  all 
over  with  little  knolls  that  look  like  bald-headed  men,  because 
their  sides  are  covered  with  herbage,  while  their  tops  are  bare. 
The  baldness  is  caused  by  ant-hills.  If  you  examine  one 
of  these  knolls  any  time  after  the  middle  of  January,  and 
sometimes  even  earlier,  you  will  find  the  summit  alive  with 
ants  who  are  farmers. 

vSome  are  carrying  off  the  accumulated  debris  left  by  winter 
winds  and  rains,  some  are  turning  up  the  soft  earth  with  their 
mandibles,  others  bringing  up  tiny  grains  from  the  granaries 
underground,  and  still  others  planting  these  grains  in  the 
earth. 

A  few  weeks  later,  if  you  should  ride  over  this  same 
prairie,  you  would  find  every  knoll  crowned  with  a  little 
circular  patch  of  tender  green.    It  is  the  young  ant-wheat. 

A  nearer  view  will  show  you  the  farmers  still  at  work, 
though  not  in  such  numbers.  They  cut  out  every  weed  as 
soon  as  it  appears,  and  drag  it  out  of  the  field,  which  is 
generally  about  three  feet  in  diameter,  forming  a  solid 
wheel,  of  which  the  entrance  to  the  ant-hill  is  the  hub,  and 
a  narrow,  beaten  path  on  the  outer  rim  the  tire.  Weeds, 
sticks,  everything  that  hinders  the  growth  of  the  crop  is 
carried  beyond  the  tire  of  the  wheel. 

But    perhaps   the   strangest   sight   of   all   will  reward 


ANCIKNT  FARMERS  AND  SPORTSMEN. 


53 


inspection  when  the  wheat  is  ready  for  harvest.  All  the 
available  working  force  of  the  farm  is  brought  out.  The 
wheat  is  now  from  three  to  six  inches  high,  according  to 
locality  and  fertility  of  soil. 

A  tiny  granger  selects  his  stock  and,  climbing  to  the  top, 
cuts  off  the  highest  grain  of  wheat  and  brings  it  down.  A 
second  granger  takes  it  at  the  foot  of  the  stalk  and  carries  it 
to  the  hill,  where  a  third  receives  and  takes  it  down  to  the 
barns,  which  are  underground. 

These  barns  are  oblong  cells,  with  arched  ceilings,  and 
walls  smooth  as  marble  and  perfectly  waterproof.  One  hill 
will  have  a  large  number  of  barns,  and  these  are  usually 
all  full  at  the  end  of  the  harvest.  One,  and  sometimes  two 
barnfuls  are  saved  for  seed.  " 

When  the  crop  is  harvested,  every  stalk  is  cut  down  and 
carried  out  of  the  field.  Sometimes  two  crops  are  raised  in  a 
year.  But  the  farmer  is  not  idle  after  harvest.  He  gathers 
leaves  for  the  wiijter  quarters,  having  first  brought  out  all  of 
last  year's  bedding,  and  does  a  hundred  little  chores  ;  in  fact, 
the  Texas  ant  works  pretty  much  all  the  year,  and  doesn't 
hibernate,  like  the  New  Mexico  planter. 

In  the  South  we  call  a  man  who  raises  only  grain  a  farmer, 
and  one  who  raises  sugar,  or  cotton,  or  both,  a  planter ; 
therefore  I  call  my  New  Mexico  agriculturist  a  planter. 
Perhaps  he  came  to  this  continent  with  the  Texas  farmer,  and 
being  more  adventurous,  pushed  farther  west ;  or  perhaps  he 
came  the  Pacific  route,  and  fled  eastward  with  the  Indians 
from  the  Spaniard.  Anyway,  he  is  nearly  related  to  the 
Texas  ant,  although  the  latter  is  red  and  larger  than  the 
Mexican,  who  is  nearly  black. 

When  I  went  to  New  Mexico  I  thought  I  had  found  my 
old  Texas  friends  in  that  odd  and  surprising  country  ;  for  I 
saw  the  round  fields  in  every  direction.  But  a  nearer  view 
showed  me  it  was  not  ant-wheat  that  flecked  the  arid  mesa 
and  rocky  canon  with  pale  green  disks. 

Week  after  week  I  watched  these  little  plantations  up  in 


The  Ancient  Sportsmen. 


The  Ancient  Farmers. 


ANCIENT  FARMERS  AND  SPORTSMEN. 


55 


a  canon  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  sea-level.  Instead  of 
wheat-stalks,  they  were  covered  with  a  small  spreading  plant, 
which  grew  close  to  the  ground,  one  plant  sometimes  covering 
an  area  of  four  inches,  sometimes  two  or  three,  but  never 
more  than  an  inch  and  a  half  high.  As  the  summer  wore  on, 
a  white  veil  spread  over  the  delicate  green  of  the  little  fields, 
until  they  looked  like  patches  of  snow. 

Every  day  I  watched  the  planters  for  hours.  One  August 
morning  I  saw  unusual  bustle  and  activity  in  a  plantation 
near  my  window,  and  going  to  my  usual  post  of  observation, 
a  very  large  ant-hill  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  I  found  my 
planters  picking  cotton  !  By  this  time  the  little  plants  were 
entirely  covered  with  a  soft  white  furze,  and  hundreds  of  ants 
were  stripping  the  leaves  and  stems  of  their  fleecy  robes. 

I  have  seen  many  cotton-fields  picked  in  my  life,  but  none 
left  so  clean  as  these.  The  leaves  of  this  cotton  plant  are 
about  half  an  inch  long,  cylindrical  in  shape,  and  about  the 
thickness  of  a  pencil-lead.  One  ant  would  strip  five  or  six 
leaves  and  carry  the  cotton  in  a  loose  ball  on  his  head  down 
into  the  hole.  He  did  not  shift  his  burden,  as  the  Texas  ant 
does,  from  one  to  another.  By  what  process  he  himself 
was  picked  of  the  tiny  particles  that  clung  to  his  legs  and 
mandibles  I  do  not  know,  but  I  do  know  that  every  ant 
coming  out  of  the  nest  was  spick-and-span  clean. 

After  the  cotton  was  all  picked  the  leaves  were  cut  off  and 
carried  into  the  nests,  and  the  stalks  cut  down  and  hauled  off. 

When  my  parents  moved  to  Texas,  in  1840,  it  was  little 
better  than  a  wilderness.  Wild  animals  hardly  deserved 
that  epithet,  they  were  so  tame.  I  suppose  that  nowhere  in 
that  vast  state  could  now  be  seen  the  very  extraordinary 
performance  I  am  about  to  relate.  I  never  saw  it  before  or 
since,  but  I  certainly  saw  it  then,  and  so  vivid  is  the  picture 
in  my  memory  that  I  seem  to  see  it  now  as  I  write. 

We  were  travelling  from  Houston  to  Grimes  County, 
bowling  along  at  a  brisk  trot  over  the  smooth  prairie-road  in 
the  cool  of  the  morning.    Suddenly  the  carriage  stopped  and 


56 


ANCIENT  FARMERS  AND  SPORTSMEN. 


the  driver  cried,  in  a  frightened  voice,  "  Look  at  the  cranes 
playing  ball !  " 

On  the  bare  top  of  a  knoll  on  the  right  of  us,  and  quite 
near  enough  to  be  seen  distinctly,  was  a  group  of  five  cranes 
of  the  kind  known  in  Texas  as  sand-hill  cranes.  Four  of 
them  stood  at  equal  distances  apart,  forming  a  square,  and  a 
fifth  stood  off  a  few  feet  from  the  players,  as  if  keeping  tally. 
The  four  players  were  tossing  a  ball,  high  in  the  air,  from 
corner  to  corner,  catching  it  as  it  came  down,  and  passing  it 
on  in  like  manner.  One  would  catch  it,  toss  it  up  toward  his 
right-hand  neighbor,  and  so  on. 

After  watching  them  for  about  ten  minutes,  we  found  out 
what  the  fifth  crane  was  for.  One  of  the  players  missed  a 
ball ;  it  could  not  have  reached  the  ground  before  the  fifth 
crane  caught  it,  when  the  unlucky  loser  stepped  out,  the  odd 
crane  took  his  place,  and  he  waited  in  turn  for  a  miss  from 
some  other  player  to  get  in. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  we  sat  there  enjoying  this  novel 
game  before  father's  curiosity  to  see  what  sort  of  a  ball  they 
had,  caused  him  to  ride  up  to  the  enthusiastic  sportsmen.  He 
almost  touched  them  before  they  saw  him,  and  with  a  loud 
"  ky-ank  !  ky-ank  !  "  they  flew  away. 

The  ball  proved  to  be  a  hair  ball,  such  as  all  Texas 
cattle-raisers  know  and  dread.  They  form  in  the  stomachs  of 
cattle,  and  are  always  fatal.  Near  the  playground  was  the 
dried  carcass  of  the  animal  in  which,  no  doubt,  the  cranes 
found  their  plaything. 

AuREiyiA  H.  MOHI,. 


t 


The  Water  Cactus. 

We  sometimes  read,  in  narratives  of  travel  and  adventure 
in  the  deserts  of  the  Southwest,  that  men  in  the  last 
extremities  of  thirst  have  saved  their  lives  by  obtaining 
water  from  a  species  of  cactus  called  the  Fish-Hook  Cactus, 
or  Water  Cactus. 

This  plant  when  fully  grown  bears  a  general  resemblance 
to  the  Giant  Cactus,  and  both  varieties  are  frequently'  found 
growing  side  by  side.  But  the  Water  Cactus  is  readily 
distinguished  from  the  other  by  its  broad,  fiat  spines  curv^ed 
like  fish-hooks,  while  those  of  the  Giant  Cactus  are  slender 
and  tapering,  like  needles. 
f  Another  distinguishing  trait  is  noted  in  the  ridges  from 

which  the  spines  protrude.  On  the  Giant  Cactus  these  run 
perpendicularly  from  base  to  apex,  like  the  fluting  of  an 
Ionic  column ;  while  on  the  Water  Cactus  they  ascend  the 
shaft  in  spiral  fashion,  giving  the  plant  a  marked  corkscrew 
appearance. 

During  the  first  few  years  of  its  growth  the  Water  Cactus 
is  spherical  or  globular  in  form.  Its  subsequent  growth  is  a 
gradual  elongation  upward,  so  that  it  becomes  ovate  in  form, 
and  finally  cylindrical,  attaining  a  height,  when  full-grown, 
of  six  to  seven  feet,  with  a  diameter  rarely  exceeding  fourteen 
to  sixteen  inches. 

To  be  able  to  find  and  recognize  the  plant  is  not  enough  ; 
one  must  know  how  to  make  it  give  up  the  life-saving  fluid  ; 
and  this  is  by  no  means  an  easy  task.  The  pulpy  interior  is 
enveloped  in  a  skin  more  impenetrable  than  the  toughest 
leather,  and  further  protected  with  an  array  of  stout,  wiry 
spines,  so  springy  that  the  largest  rock  thrown  against  them 
will  violently  rebound,  leaving  them  uninjured.  No  animal 
save  man  can  make  any  impression  on  this  porcupine  of  the 
vegetable  kingdom ;    and  even  man,  unless  provided  with 


58 


THE  WATER  CACTUS. 


fire,  as  well  as  an  axe  or  stout-bladed  knife,  would  find  it 
impossible  to  penetrate  one. 

There  is  but  one  method  of  dealing  with  the  spines,  and 
that  is  fire.  They  burn  like  tinder,  taking  fire  readily  from  a 
few  dead  leaves  or  straws  ignited  at  the  base  of  a  cactus  on 
the  windward  side.  The  flame  spreads  rapidly  from  spine  to 
spine,  consuming  them  instantly  with  a  fierce,  crackling 
blaze  ;  and  in  less  than  one  minute  both  fire  and  spines  have 
disappeared. 

Then  it  only  remains  to  chop  or  cut  a  segment  from  the  top 
of  the  now  denuded  cylinder,  and  scoop  out  a  basin  in  the  soft, 
spongy  interior.  By  continued  pounding  with  the  back  of  the 
axe,  water  enough  will 
ooze  into  the  hollow  to 
satisfy  the  thirst  of  twenty 
men. 

Should  the  searcher 
after  water  be  provided 
only  with  a  knife,  as  is 
generally  the  case,  the  job 
of  effecting  an  entrance 

.  The  Water  Cactus.  , 

IS  long  and  tedious,  for 

the  tough  rind  cuts  no  more  easily  than  a  tin  fruit-can  ;  in 
fact,  it  is  more  difficult  to  cut,  as  it  does  not  present  so  firm  a 
resistance  to  the  knife. 

The  entire  inner  portion  of  the  cactus  somewhat  resembles 
the  white  of  a  watermelon  in  consistency,  but  is  more  springy 
and  fluffy.  One  may  squeeze  water  from  it  as  from  a  sponge, 
water,  too,  that  is  quite  cold  and  refreshing,  so  impervious  is 
the  tough  skin,  even  to  the  blistering  heat  of  the  sun,  that 
may  have  been  beating  down  on  the  plant  all  day. 

Those  who  have  never  suffered  thirst  on  a  scorching  desert 
cannot  readily  imagine  the  delicious  sensation  experienced  in 
squeezing  a  lump  of  this  cold,  snow-white  cactus  heart  in  the 
mouth,  when  one's  throat  is  on  fire  and  one's  lips  parched 
and  swollen. 


THE  WATER  CACTUS. 


59 


It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that-this  cactus-water 
is  really  palatable  only  when  one  is  extremely  thirsty.  One 
summer,  while  prospecting  a  difl&cult  mountain-range  where 
no  other  water  could  be  obtained,  I  depended  for  nearly  a 
week  on  these  cacti  alone  ;  and  I  grew  so  weary  of  it  that 
I  almost  preferred  going  thirst}'. 

The  water,  when  first  obtained,  has  a  whitish,  smoky  tint, 
though  it  settles  clear  as  cr\-stal  in  an  hour  or  two.  It  has  a 
flavor,  when  one  is  not  thirst}',  somewhat  like  raw  potatoes. 
This  becomes  extremeh'  disagreeable  after  a  while,  and  is  not 
removed  b}'  boiling  ;  though  it  is  not  noticeable  in  tea  or 
coffee,  nor  in  bread. 

However,  beggars  cannot  be  choosers  ;  and  one  who  is 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  partaking  of  this  cactus  beverage 
is  not  generally  in  a  critical  mood. 

P.   C.  BiCKXELL. 


Government  Camels. 


It  is  not  generally  known,  or  not  generally  remembered, 
that  the  United  States  Government  at  the  close  of  the  Civil 
War  was  the  proprietor  of  sixty-five  or  more  camels,  which 
were  kept  at  the  abandoned  military  post  of  Camp  Verde, 
about  fifty  miles  west  of  San  Antonio,  Texas. 

These  camels  were  chiefly  the  descendants  of  a  herd 
imported  some  years  before  by  the  government  as  an 
experiment  to  test  their  adaptability  as  pack-animals  for 
frontier  service.  Should  it  prove  successful,  it  was  proposed 
to  utilize  them  for  many  purposes  in  which  the  long-suffering 
mule  had  hitherto  been  employed. 

The  results  of  the  experiment  were  satisfactory,  and  it  is 
not  easy  to  see  why  it  was  abandoned.  Possibly  the  breaking 
out  of  the  war  had  much  to  do  with  it.  The  government  had 
much  graver  questions  to  consider  than  that  of  supplanting 
the  veteran  mule  by  these  ships  of  the  desert.  It  was 
generally  admitted  that  these  animals  were  peculiarly 
adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  army,  and  especially  to  the 
cavalry  branch  of  it. 

Not  only  were  they  capable  of  carrying  with  ease  double 
a  mule's  load,  but  they  were  in  many  other  respects  superior 
as  pack-animals.  They  could  subsist,  and  even  thrive,  where 
a  mule  would  starve,  and  they  required  water  only  once  a 
week. 

Another  great  recommendation  for  the  frontier  was  the 
impossibility  of  stampeding  them.  As  a  test,  men  hid 
themselves  in  the  bushes,  and  as  the  camels  came  along 
rushed  out  suddenly,  shouting  and  firing  pistols.  The  camels 
viewed  these  demonstrations  with  an  expression  of  supreme 
disgust,  merely  turned  their  heads  to  one  side,  and  continued 
their  stately  march  unmoved. 

During  the  war  these  animals  were  cared  for  by  the 


GOVERNMKNT  CAMKLS. 


6l 


Confederate  Government.  They  were  not  utilized  in  any  way 
that  I  ever  heard  of,  but  were  simply  kept  stabled  in  the 
old  cavalry  corrals  at  Camp  Verde,  in  charge  of  the  same 
attendants  employed  by  the  United  States  Government  before 
the  surrender  of  its  property  to  the  Confederates. 

Major  King  and  myself  found  ourselves  detailed,  with 
fifty  men,  for  a  tour  of  three  weeks  in  the  vicinity  of  Camp 
Verde,  to  report  especially  on  the  number  and  condition  of 
the  government  camels,  which  had  been  so  long  lost  sight  of. 
The  old  post  of  Camp  Verde  is  beautifully  situated  in  the 
Bandera  hills,  and  in  former  times,  when  regularly  garrisoned, 
must  have  been  a  delightful  station. 

At  the  time  of  our  arrival,  however,  the  first  troops  since 
the  withdrawal  of  the  garrison  in  1861,  everything  was  in  the 
most  dilapidated  state.  Officers'  and  men's  quarters  and  the 
hospital  building  were  the  homes  of  numerous  herds  of  goats. 
Destruction  and  decay  reigned  supreme,  where  once  neatness 
and  the  strictest  order  had  prevailed.  The  only  part  of  the 
post  that  seemed  to  have  survived,  in  a  measure,  the  neglect 
of  years,  were  the  cavalry  stables,  which  were  now  occupied 
by  the  sixty-five  camels. 

As  our  detail  of  fifty  men  filed  round  to  the  open  side  of 
the  corral,  every  camel  made  a  rush  for  the  picket  fence, 
which  was  the  barrier  on  that  side.  Thrusting  their  long 
necks  over  the  paling  as  far  as  possible,  they  stared  with  the 
stoniest  of  stares  at  the  unusual  sight  of  a  company  of  cavalry, 
at  the  same  time  uttering  their  peculiar  guttural  sound,  which, 
in  sixty-five  different  keys,  made  the  most  unearthly  din. 

The  effect  on  the  horses  of  the  command  was  electrical, 
and  in  the  highest  sense  ludicrous.  Every  one  seemed 
possessed  with  the  insane  desire  to  walk  on  his  hind  legs  and 
spar  the  air  with  his  forefeet.  Many  men  were  thrown,  while 
with  others  the  horses,  wild  with  terror,  took  the  bit  in  their 
teeth  and  made  a  clean  bolt  with  their  riders  across  the 
prairie.  A  more  demoralized  body  of  troopers  could  not  have 
been  found  during  the  hottest  battle  of  the  war. 


62 


GOVERNMENT  CAMEIvS. 


Not  for  some  time  could  the  scattered  men  and  horses  be 
got  together  and  something  like  order  restored,  and  it  was 
several  days  before  the  horses  and  camels  became  reconciled 
to  each  other,  but  they  finally  got  on  good  terms  and  occupied 
the  same  stable  during  our  stay  at  the  post. 

The  camels  afforded  us  the  greatest  amusement.  The  first 
evening  of  our  arrival  Major  King  and  I  strolled  down  to  the 


The  Approach  of  Old  Frances. 


Stable  to  look  at  the  menagerie,  and  while  in  the  corral 
watching  the  feeding  process  Major  King  lighted  his  pipe. 
After  he  had  taken  a  whiff  or  two,  an  immense  camel,  or 
dromedary,  one  of  the  original  herd,  was  observed  coming 
directly  toward  us,  with  most  solemn  and  stately  tread,  and 
with  eyes  fixed  and  immovable. 

Old  Frances,  for  that  was  the  name  of  this  beast,  was  a 


GOVKRNMBNT  CAMEIyS. 


63 


most  formidable-looking  object.  We  stood  our  ground  for  a 
moment  and  then  retired  a  little  ;  as  this  towering  presence 
continued  to  advance,  apparently  as  resistless  as  fate,  we 
became  wholly  demoralized,  like  our  horses,  and  bolted  out 
of  the  corral. 

A  shout  of  laughter  from  one  of  the  keepers  called  a  halt. 
We  were  informed  that  we  were  in  no  danger,  and  that 
Old  Frances  only  wanted  a  smoke,  which  proved  to  be  the 
fact.  We  were  also  told  that  some  camels  were  very  fond  of 
tobacco-smoke,  and  would  follow  any  one  about  who  was 
smoking. 

After  we  had  found  out  the  cause  of  Old  Frances' 
attention,  we  gave  her  all  the  smoke  she  wanted.  To  place 
the  bowl  of  the  pipe  in  her  nostril  and  blow  hard  through  the 
stem  seemed  to  have  the  best  effect.  She  would  give  a  loud 
snort,  and  throwing  her  head  back  almost  on  her  hump, 
would  curl  up  her  lip,  close  her  eyes,  and  seem  lost  in  an 
ecstasy  of  enjoyment.  Two  rounds  of  this  smoking  business 
fully  satisfied  her,  and  nothing  could  induce  her  to  indulge 
again  until  after  several  hours  had  passed. 

These  camels  were,  with  one  exception,  as  gentle  as  sheep. 
The  children  of  the  keepers  played  among  them  with  perfect 
safety,  and  often  climbed  on  the  backs  of  the  younger  ones. 

The  only  vicious  one  was  the  huge  stallion.  Major,  who 
was  very  dangerous,  and  was  kept  securely  chained.  His 
chief  delight  was  to  kill  every  mule  he  could  get  at,  and  his 
method  of  doing  so  was  certainly  original.  He  would  place 
his  breast-bone  on  his  victim's  back,  and  by  throwing  forward 
his  great  weight,  would  crush  the  poor  brute  to  the  earth, 
and  break  its  back. 

Only  one  man  dared  lead  the  Major  to  water,  and  he  did 
not  do  it  unnecessarily  often.  This  performance  was  quite  a 
complicated  one,  for  the  Major  took  his  own  time.  He  would 
walk  a  few  steps,  then  stop  to  browse  a  few  moments,  and 
no  power  bn  earth  could  induce  him  to  move  on  until  he 
was  ready.    A  little  farther  on  he  would,  perhaps,  rear  on 


64 


GOVKRNMKN'T  CAMKI.S. 


his  hind  legs  to  nip  the  foliage  of  a  live-oak  tree,  often 
reaching  to  an  astonishing  height  from  the  ground.  The 
man  in  charge  could  do  nothing  but  stand  meekly  by  until 
his  lordship  saw  fit  to  complete  the  trip.  This  watering 
process  generally  consumed  several  hours,  and  the  keeper 
thanked  his  stars  when  it  was  over. 

The  scene  in  the  morning,  when  the  camels  were  taken  out 
together,  was  quite  Oriental.  Sixty-five  strung  out  in  single 
file.  Old  Frances  in  the  lead  and  the  young  ones  bringing  up 
the  rear,  made  a  long  line.  One  could  always  tell,  without 
looking,  when  the  camels  were  out,  for  every ■  tethered  mule 
would  bray  and  tug  at  his  halter,  and  every  loose  animal 
would  charge  around  like  mad  till  the  camels  were  out  of 
sight. 

Orders  from  Washington  finally  came  to  sell  these  animals 
by  public  auction,  and  they  were  soon  disposed  of  at  a  very 
low  price,  chiefly  to  circus  and  menagerie  owners,  and  were 
dispersed  in  the  United  States  and  Mexico. 


A.  I.  Pkck,  U.S.A. 


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